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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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Rises too early. Retires too late. Or it doesn’t sleep at all.
Cooks for us, but not for you. For you don’t think you deserve it. Your body Brought us crooked, battered, orange leaf love. Your body Is no longer yours. You are its, it hammers you Forcing protein pancakes, eggs with pancakes, chocolate on pancakes down our throats Wishing, wishing it was you. Now my body cannot see your body So my body brought you to be seen by Mrs. Cate And then you lied to Mrs. Cate. And your mother, and then mine. Your body, It lied to you. It said you’re fine, but really You need something other than that green escape, or worse. Your body Needs real air, not minty, not raspberry. Needs gasoline, batteries, even allergies Your body needs control. Because your parents are fighting. Your body Lost its soul. So I, Clara, stopped loving you. Your body. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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