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Organ Systems
My heart feels like a cancerous lung—
flooded with tar and festering with abuse,
oozing the pain of rejection into my bloodstream.
My arms feel like broken legs—
torn muscles burning with lactic acid residue,
my sense of touch demolished.
My spine hangs like a falling tree—
branches of vertebrae rotting from pollution,
the pollution of my delicate organ systems.
My brain does not know how to think—
rather, it sits like a chicken’s egg,
an egg stepped on before hatching.
The blood, tissues, organs of my infant body
smoldering in the heat of day,
burnt to a crisp on the sidewalk of the sun.
Will I ever live?
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