Hollow BonesMature

Porcelain bones all soft and hollow like those of a

Crow, but you can't fly away in a sweep of 

Midnight wings; you are made out of glass, 

You are glass-rod skeletal remains like a 

Fossil; a resin-reminder of all that is left 

Of a heart-warmed human being, before 

You emptied out everything in tears and 

Vomit and hacked away at your bony 

Museum body until the last curtain fell 

On your hospital ward performance; 

A drugged-up drama, peel off the mask 

And drift into oblivion. 

The End

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