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Sane Little Center.

On the other side
of the wall
he made between,
she awaits
patiently, forever left
holding her breath.

It stands, a wall
that never comes down,
just grows until it has split
their world,
and when she watches
as he tries

to sever that last thread
again and again
and again, she wonders
why she is always left
to salvage, left to manage
the damage on her own,

why, no matter
how much her sense
of self-respect
may have phases,
she remains the only one
she can rely on,
count on
to get herself through,

helping others get
passed, too, like a sane
little center in a world
of madness,

a node in the web
ensuring the whole elaborate
mess holds together,
then there are days
like this where she feels
certain she cannot
even hold her own:

all this despite
her whole life standing
as evidence
of her will to survive,
her calm
refusal to fold…


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