Free From Me


My fingertips, laced around the handle of this teacup.

Sat comparing the cracks close-up.

The tea-stains that lay around it’s edge, from days overused.

Trying incessantly to scrub away the evidence of abuse.

A tshirt hangs from my lanky frame.

I avoid the mirror, what I’ve became.

Scars litter my skin, from fights and animal bites.

And mainly so, from lonely nights.

I pull on a hoodie and zip it up.

Pick back up that stained teacup.

Place it down and make some tea.

Daydream of a time when I can be free, from me.

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