You Aren’t, Actually

so this is it
last straw
rock bottom
sweet oily nadir
the last best stand of slander
and nothing more to fear

my ears burned all the
scraping way
down
slippery dark
dissatisfied walls
responded happily
to odd routines
of poky
little birdcalls

not aware was I
the last rites were to be
a burial alive!
but get this, ducky,
phoenixes have wings!
-and I have come too far
to fall
and Un-Survive

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You Aren’t, Actually

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