Work Hours


I can count to ten in French. I know my months too. Today has been like finding a lone ladybug in squalor. A lucky penny and a losing scratch-off. A letter so tear stained the message is blurred. A car crash and even decapitation. When I move like I moved today, the tears come. Slow at first with no sobbing. Have to hide my face. I said no during work hours for no reason and no purpose to no one. It happens with flashbacks, shame, and regret.

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byKikahCornelius© 0 comments/ 318 views/ 0 favorites

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