I buried myself.
I buried a part of myself.

I wore my best black dress,
Brought some flowers,
Gave a eulogy,
Expressed / Feigned grief.

That piece / parasite was
Trailing behind me like
A clanking, clanging cacophony of sadness,
But I chose
Strings |de|tach|ed|.

I cut myself free.

I could hear it banging on that mournful wood,
As the coffin was lowered into the earth.
I bowed my head,
And tried to ignore the muffled screams.

Three weeks later:
It tried to exhume itself.

Two months later:
I thought I heard it knock on my bedroom door,
And call my name.

Half a year later:
Its croak is a whisper.

A year later:
I finally take out the stitches,
The last mark of its existence.

Good bye, Sorrow.
I’m finally looking forward to Tomorrow.
I submitted this poem to an online zine about two weeks ago, but it wasn’t accepted. I didn’t get any response from the editors and I know I submitted it before the deadline, but I guess somewhere along the submission process, something went wrong. It’s okay though because I still get to share it with you all! Thank you for your support.

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