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XVI, The Tower by Jenn Carbaugh
You uproot me.
You destroy what you can to make room for the new.
You can’t even humble me in this process.
You’re pulling the rug out so quickly,
but the glass is still breaking.
There’s no other way.
This destruction is your revelation, not mine.
Your hands are the dirty ones,
but I’m still managing how figure out why I was so naïve.
I was blind.
I am blind.
This core is cracked.
You broke us. You broke me.
Stop saying the dust will clear and the new will bloom.
How can creation come from such a savage?@7 months ago with 2 notes