In Eight Years

I didn’t know

If I did

I would have brought some glue

To fix the place

Where you slipped through time

The tear in the air that separates

You and I


I didn’t know

I was younger then

Amaurotic to the law

That despite every single fight

I had within

That the people I love

Would one day, well, die


I didn’t know

But now, as I see those facts

Those faces

I run my fingers along faded ink

And maybe a few tears, too

But I am so tired


I don’t usually cry

But this saltwater bath is long overdue

And the ashen vision

Of what could have been

Helps me see clearly again

A white windowframe

Leading to a cage

The constrained girl stares at me


“Why?” she asks

“Because it hurts.”

“But it isn’t…”

“Life isn’t fair, Dear.”

“Who are you?”

“You will see in eight years.”


This poem is about: 
My family


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