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Chrysanthemum
i.
  I tear myself apart like a
  Chrysanthemum
  yellow petals
  dancing slowly on the air,
  falling in beautiful slow-motion and
  folding in on themselves in a
  majestic cacophony of bewilderment
  Beautiful in the sense that
  Im not afraid to fall apart
  But falling apart became
  something I was used to
  Alone in that room
  That tape recorder I sat next to
  Every time I felt destructive
  I hid it between the couch cushions
  So that they wouldn’t see
  How much they hurt me.

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