If my sadness was a thing,
it would be in a musty cardboard box
with dark, deformed edges, water damaged
not worth stealing from my porch
If my sadness was another thing,
like something alive,
but only just
a possum, humming with flies
if my sadness was a person
i would say, "Get the fuck away" from me
but no matter, it would rub it's scabby boner
on my brand new pants
is that sufficient?
can i go now?
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