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The Biggest Problem Is that We Won't Help Each Other

A Poem

How tight will these strings around my wrist get? I fight to make it to you but there is this invisible wall you built which keeps me from doing something as innocent as giving you hug. A welcome-back-home hug, because I haven’t seen you all week as you lost yourself between paper work and emails. I look at you looking at the tv, with your mouth full of food, which then causes your chest pains. Why are you eating so quickly? I sit up and finish my dinner in silence, wondering if Saturday is my lucky day– you will be free of anything and maybe talk to me. Listen to me. Because in the time span of a week no one ever does. Not you, not mom. This house is haunted by silence. Maybe, its when these strings will cut through my flesh that you will be ready to be here, with me. I will have lost my hands, no longer able to crease you cheek; but I would give up every limb just to feel you closer.

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The Biggest Problem Is that We Won't Help Each Other
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