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I try and I try
to be all that perfect
all that held
as if by silken ribbons
upon my hips
with no support needed
no praises heaped
to inflate the ego that is healthy
but what you don’t see
are all the pillions and pillars of concrete and steel
where the bones should be
to help upright a deflated soul
lost of its vibrancy
long time ago.
Do you see the plastic now?
The empty eyes
and the waxy skin?
I try and I try
to be real
to be me
but fumble upon my own feet
as surely as gravity.