5-16-17
What do you care if I’m made
Of bricks or clay,
Patched with straw or gold?
What do you care if I’m even a vessel.
I can promise to carry water for the people
And never do it.
Or every day save from thirst
And your face is blind to it,
Soft and rubbery and blind.
I am not sure if you even see colors.
I hate in the mirror I increasingly see your face.
Hate,
Oh, I know. I know.
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