No. 012

October 11, 2024·12 lines·1 min read

Those wounds stung

Of a thousand bricks.

There will come a time When you must walk with the weight Of a thousand bricks. Retrace every step through Wet cement 'til the concrete sticks. You slashed that knife, You broke that vow. You must breathe in smoke From your own fiery lungs, Or you'll never understand How much those wounds stung.

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Those wounds stung0:00 / 0:22
Part of a living collection since September 2024.

No. 12

12 lines · 1 min read

124 total entries and still expanding.

A way further in

Not the final meaning. Just a closer read, a better question, and a few nearby poems worth opening next.

SurvivalAnger

A strong place to begin when you need permission to feel heat instead of hiding it.

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Notes for Collection No. 12

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