At the end of this day
I have talked that talk
A thousand times
Performed the necessary
reparation
caressed and cooed
their precious hearts
curdled by the
banshee moan
Applied the patches
intentionally left gaping holes
layed just enough ground
to transverse
like advancing along
the attic rafters
With the precision
of a married woman
I have practiced this day
derailing and mounting
in intense fluxuation
the tracks of fear and love
And still I have mastered nothing
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