my little hands are shaking

I
I let
my hair
grow long.
Down over my green eyes
so I can try,
not to notice,
what I’ve forgotten,
these last few years.

I am losing
all sense of familiarity
and
twirling my hair
around my fingers
all too much.
And I don’t think
anyone
knows how to stop me
from falling to pieces
of dust.

And no one relaxes
my clenched fists
or bothers
to yell back.
So I deteriorate
some more.

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