fishtail

Disappointment is just another way
of shedding a layer of skin
Without room to grow we
suffocate our freedom
Right or wrong
I can’t tell which one I’ve been in
Perhaps I cast my line
Somewhere down the middle
most of the time
Perhaps I bite the hand that feeds
It’s all I can do to stifle the air
I choke on so as not to be heard
It’s all I can do not to breathe

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