The wind is whistling and the long grass is dying #62

I was told to take a shower

that it might cheer me up.

I don’t have the strength to argue.

I huddle in the base

and pray to my father.

I don’t have the strength to wash.

I pick up the razor blade

let it meet my skin.

I don’t have the strength to do it.

I return to find a gift

that it might cheer me up.

but I don’t have the strength to see it.

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