A poem.

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always sick
always in pain
they told you not to fret
as you hunched yourself over the oxygen tank.
“that lump on your chest is worth its weight in gold.”
you play with your breasts.
those photos online impressed your friends.
days spill over to weeks on end.
you don’t know how many more of your lies you can spin.

//jf 7.8.2020

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