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or lack thereof

By Guenneth SpeldrongPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 1 min read
A monument in Slovakia. It's called "The Child who was Never Born."

Missing something

I never had




Torn tissue paper

Covered in


That could have been used

To repair my heart that is

Fated for the landfill


For my

Wire mother

Even though

Her sharp edges

Carved out chunks of me

Through the spartan


"Something is wrong here"

My brain says-

But it won't tell me what


Vivid dreams

Of wrenching pain

Color the happy moments

When I finally learn

What love is

My fingers in the past

My arms in Seattle

My legs deep underground

My head has rolled away

But the rest of me is yours

And it isn't enough

I knew it wouldn't be

I did my best, for whatever that is worth

I was broken from the start

A flimsy side table

With only two directions

For assembly

And pieces that don't belong


sad poetry

About the Creator

Guenneth Speldrong

Hello there. I write things. Sometimes good things. Mostly, I write to find myself. If I can entertain you in the process, then that's just the derivative icing on the proverbial cake!

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