When you spend too long
looking in the mirror
broken mirror
forcing pieces back into someone else's pattern
you know where the next war will begin
you know nothing will get better

It's a package
tangled strings, self-medication, blanket hatred
The vagueness that gave strength
will vanish.

~ ~ ~

He was a friend
but I don't think he really liked me
I'm not sure, but I think he thought
I was a failure, or a threat
but maybe I'm trying
to make myself more important

At his funeral
they played
Swinging on a Star

~ ~ ~

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~ ~ ~