There Is No Rest in These Relics

I feel you now as a bite to the spirit;

a burning reminder of my many failures.

However deep a love, the deeper some cruelties burrow in,

to slingshot out.

Our parents' neglect creates psychic monsters.

The wider the space for an echo,

the more these ghosts of my dysfunction holler,

all victims of that silent beast confined to black catacombs.

Little time travelers in me, all in me...

There is no rest in these relics.

There is no poem, no spell

to forget you.

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