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The Breaking Point
There was a time in my life
When it all would have simply flowed past
And I, skipping through the grass with bared foot and ribbons in my hair,
Might not even have noticed
Raised voices
Gunshot words
But then I began to wear shoes
And the ribbons wore out
And I growed all up into a big person,
Just like I dreamt I would
Suddenly the voices were louder
As if I had taken off a pair of headphones
And the subtle hints, not so subtle anymore,
Punctuated the cold silence
(they still hang on our walls, ominous relics of a stonier age)
The Chinese noodles, slapped across the table,
Lie limp and bleeding, like cold intestines
As he strides from the room
And I,
De-ribboned, shod-footed,
Bereft of my ignorant power,
Stand poised over an ice-cliff,
Unsure which way to fall.
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