and breaths of air that never last
escapes from shells bubbles jars
fleeting thoughts walks in front of cars
have i had a tragedy more pure
than futile ruminations on my own cure
for flesh and bone are built to last
the grey matter of my brain holds my past
one garbled and fuzzed
years of misunderstanding
how to cope with a crash-landing
no black box no record of woe
some missing scars some broken toes
proof is all that i held dear
it slips further from me year by year
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