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Love Looked at Me and Laughed and other poems - 12. gilded in grime
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Poem No. 30
My worth is gilded with grime,
Leaving nothing to me
Except inexpressible longing.
Poem No. 31
There must be no retreat from the fact.
I must return every look for the value it was given,
with no fear that it was ever less or more.
I must force my sun to rise, for they to see,
the ‘they’ for whom my light will have its meaning.
Poem No. 32
Must I stay in this mask of my own making,
Pretending the world knows not the difference
Between who I am and the possibilities forsaken,
Showing only mistaken deliverance?
And so, as the option wanes,
and I for want of better,
look at what little remains,
by turning it into a burden.
Any longer need I the mask indeed,
But for the weight of years of feared accusing.
Poem No. 33
My brand of sorrow
is their livelihood;
their brand of sadness
is my muse.
A Poem about the Psychiatric Profession
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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