Lungs

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She’s not poetry,
she’s not sentiment
She’s the heart that’s broke but lives
She’s not afraid of the dark
But
She’ll write songs about
6:58
when
The light
And the shadows
they’re mixed

She’s the commotion
In the hallway
She’s fists of courage
And misunderstandings
She’s not afraid of the voices
But she wants to pull
The wires from the wall

You’ve read her
You’ve conditioned
Your idea of her
Joan of Ark
Neverlands lady
A work of fiction
A surreal memory
But she’s her own…

She goes walking
With flower’s in her hair
So long as she’s her own
She won’t care
She’s open
Her lungs were
Made to breathe

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3 thoughts on “Lungs

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