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Supergirl and Her Kryptonite.

From the still
silence that has stretched
over what I presumed
to be a dead line,
she reaches out
from the ether
as if provoked by echoes
from my mind.

Again she rises,
calls to me, to show
the connection remains.
Now she edits herself,
hiding all
that makes me dream
of being her hero.

They fucking destroy her,
those she loves,
they fashion the tie
that binds into a noose
for her immortal self
to swing and suffer
in eternal torture.

Her soul,
their goddamn piñata.

It’s not my life, not my choice,
I must remind myself.
Her freedom is her own,
but how I wish
she would show
them her spine,

I know its there.

Put her foot down and fight,
draw the line
and find herself
before they eat it all away.

Etch her own S
on her chest
and save herself
from the poison of her family…


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