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Poetry by Mary Sims

a corpse in bloom

A corpse torn open, carved out & can you kill what was never alive?


             you find a way       
                       you find a way.


Belief collects in hope & how much must be taken for acceptance?

            you cannot call this giving
            any longer–

            but can you call something that never died
   a
            corpse?


Sacrifice is not your name & still
you become it–
            maybe this was fated.


There is a lesson in this
but you do not care to learn it.


Hope breathes–
            chokes on hypocrisy and definition, stutters humanity through gritted metal
            & they call it
chaos.


A savior is labeled a sinner in their moment of
salvation,                           called a false prophet & attacked
but you were never anything they hadn’t already made you


            a god is stuffed into little boy bones
            & cries to be
            found



& the masses swarm until
sated. Hope gives until there is nothing of itself
left. & then some.


You are many things
& you wonder if one of those things was ever

alive.
More more more by Mary Sims

Picture
Mary is an 18-year-old aspiring poet and writer who is currently working towards her degree in English. Her poem is also featured in her chapbook, I-Boy unmade, which can be found on her twitter @rhymesofblue.
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