Sometimes I will do
something wrong
just to prove I still can
the dire pleasure of it
knowing the stench
that follows
this often happens
to an older part of
my childhood which I’ve
carefully preserved
mummified through
reformations and
revolutions a holy relic
a weakness behind
my weakness the dead
come back to warn me of
they know what would help
but can do nothing directly
while I have no idea what
to do but all the will
in the world to do it.
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