Poem: Chainlink

 

Chain Link

 

poisonous words

brewed in my mouth,

stirred by a sad tongue

 

tiill i drank the rage of self-hate

and furrows grew

on a familar soil of forearm,

plowed there by a razor.

 

fuchsias,

such brash young plants,

crept toward the doorstep of death

 

and yet, even so, unsure,

soon to dry and flake,

and leave behind 

a chain link of scars.

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10/27/25 eds