i do not remember waking in this room
this room that is not my own
but it is not the birth
that frightens me
it is the days
spent here beneath the ceiling
tumbling over bits of reason
without a way to keep them
i sit here in the center
of a bed with no blanket
today there are rips that were not there before
stains i don’t remember making
they’ve painted the walls with blame
because i do not bleed
i can not stay here
here in this room that is not my own
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