my hands are cold.
it is an ephemeral feeling
of turning to stone.
emotionless. empty.
a weird sort of free.
i clench my fists,
embracing the cold on my fingertips
and thank god for plunging me into darkness.
i accept this side of me
though no one else does.
the hurt will fade, they say
but healing is no longer my attempt.
i legalize this pain
as cold as the palm of my hands
that never receive enough bloodflow.
i am a new me
unsure of who i am
but sure of a situation
i know i will never escape from.
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