Hound

I get out on the street
in the morning
I walk my hound
whom not everybody sees
left right
right left
I don't exist
there are only
my legs
I hide the bruises
under my jeans like
some dark circles
under the eyes
the nights are long
the men are weird
and inside it's getting cold
I think I got silly
I have teeth on my arms
and holes in my eyes
this time
no skeletons
in the closet
I grew up a lot
like grass on a
deserted tomb
to overcome
what I want, I can't
I am already too
far ahead.

by Ewa Gorski

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