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Sausage Casing By Megan O’Hanlon

Writer's picture: Tin Can PoetryTin Can Poetry

I steal a second glimpse

My figure contorts curves into acceptance,

Tell me how to feel comfortable in skin that won't fit me,

The rips, shreds, tares imperfectly trace lines of imperfections of impertinence.

Their paths etch into me ajar,

Purple.

My conscience force-feeds me empty calories of expectations

Unattainable nightmare-fuelled dreams.

Dreams of distraction from the engulfing chaos.

I am drowning my lungs pressurized by delusions.

It's only so long until I burst.

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