poem nine

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sometimes it's going
to hurt. it will. you're
going to sit on your
floor streaming at
your ceiling pulling
your hair and trying
to tear the skin off
your bones. you're
going to fall asleep
with tears burning
holes in your cheeks
and pray that
you won't wake up.
but you will.
you will always wake up.
be glad. it's going to stop
hurting.

-P.F

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