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I am not
~I am not a graceful person. I am not
a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I
am a Tuesday 2am, I am gunshots
muffled by a few city blocks. I am a
broken window during February. My
bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall
from elegance with a dull thud, and I
apoligize for my awkward sadness. I
sometimes believe that I don't belong
around people, that I belong to all the
leap days that didn't happen. The
way lightness and darkness mix under
my skin has become a storm. You don't
see lightning but you hear the
echoes.~

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