That’s where the truth is at

Everything seems to have gone terribly wrong that can.
But one breath at a time is an acceptable plan,
she tells herself.
And the air is still there.
This morning it’s even breathable,
and for a second the relief is unbelievable
and she’s a heavy sack of flour sifted,
her burden lifted,
and she’s full of clean wind for one lean moment
and then,
she’s trapped again.
Reverted, caged and contorted
with no way to get free,
and she’s getting plenty of little kisses
but nobody’s slippin’ her the key.

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