we are all just knots from previous tangles but there are some knots just can't be undoneMature

There is a tremble of a heartbeat fluttering beneath my skin
and I am a tattered mess of terrible things and sorrowful things - 
a skeleton of the clutter and wildness that I used to be - 
and I find myself wondering if the birds that take flight before
the chill of autumn sets in do so because their tiny little bones
would crack in the frigid air - I am shivering, there is no breeze -
and I think I should migrate South, I’m fracturing from this cold.

The End

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