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The great dragon comes down from the sky

I miss the little room 

That sat between me and her because 


Now that it’s gone, I cannot remember 

How it ever existed. 


She’s here all the time now, my new permanent roommate.

She painted the walls black and blue with her bare hands.

And then she becomes a part of me.


Nowadays, I am afraid of darkness. 

I run every time the black blots the edges of my paper, like a plague 


It spreads so I rip and tear 


Get out get out get out. 


I think this might have something to do with 

The great dragon that has come down 


From the sky, 


Bringing with her a farmer’s yearly rain 


Regardless of whether the crops 

Have come into fruition. 


At night 


When the wild things 

Creep and crawl 


That’s when the gruesome truth ensnares me-


Through the looking glass

shed tears 



I turn on the lights, and I sit staring 

Into the sky 


For a glimpse of my sun 


But even when she does come out, 


She’s half undone, encircled 

And broken and 




Oh, how I used to love the rain 

Now I silently scream in pain 


For it comes down on me like all of heavens’ wrath 

And leaves me uprooted and slammed deep down into the unforgiving earth. 






My succulent has been straining towards the light, but its petals are shriveled and wrinkled, 


Now a series of overlapping, gnarly thin textures that resemble more a huge dust mite. 


Like me, it now cowers from the day 


Underneath the comforter 

Unable to come out.

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The state that nursed us grew their 

babies alongside 


Its huge maples and seeping lakes. 



Grew like patches, thick lines running 

Up and down and across, reaching.

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