Paper Flowers taking Root in Flesh

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Safety-pin promises stitch
The psyche into
Heart shaped shards.
Don't you want to hand them out,
Toting them in sterilized bags?
Until the wind scatters them across the pavement.
No one wants the fragments of a
Hand-me-down heart.
Plant the dirtied seeds in the soil of
Your brain,
Emptied by the harvest of those
Who only want grounds to rake.
Let the marigolds grow from your eyes,
Paint the world orange with their petals.
When the roses entomb your lungs
Accept the beauty,
Even if you can't
Breathe.
You are not here for them.

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