I’d like to declare a cease-fire
against myself. I am done
being tired all the time
from fighting a war
I don’t remember starting.
I’d like to recall
all the spies that burrowed
into my darkest recesses
to use everything they found
against me.
Is any armistice enough
to let the imprisoned parts
dare the sunlight
or
will they stay in their cells
even while knowing
that no doors could never exist
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that they didn't have the key to?
Photo by Candice Seplow on Unsplash
Song Choice: Don't Let Me Get Me by P!nk
Liner Notes For This Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, War is Over, If You Want It.
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