Spring cleaning
By dousing these things
That used to have meaning
With gasoline.

Setting fire to what’s expired.
Clearing out space
For new perspective
To take its place.

Counting the steps
That I’m taking,
The progress I’m making,
To keep me from breaking.

Now I’m braking.
Looking back
And staking a claim
To what belongs to me.

I won’t be shaken.
What I love can’t be taken.
Even though I was mistaken
Before, not anymore.

 

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