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Writer's pictureRoss McKeachie

Mistaken




Don’t make the same mistake I did:

trying to be too spiritual.


Lost the meaning.


A precise shape, unravelled, melted.


Now I want to become more human.


Brimming with story.


Woven by hands of mystery.


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When I woke up this morning

I rubbed my feet together.


Felt the knots

and the soft spots.


Remembered dreams.


Felt hunger grow.


Scratched.


I didn’t ask

to be liberated.

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