I wish I was still stubborn
Young enough to believe I can do it all
Free enough to always find a way
Did my mind fully develop
Or did I just lose my innocence
Confronting a world filled with obligations
But lacking opportunity
Where does desire go to die?
Does it take its final resting place in an organ
Or does it completely vacate the body
My own fingers reverberate
As I drag them across my rib cage
I pull myself into an embrace
And wonder what is left?
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Poetry Books: Identity Crisis, Rehab