this is a winter of desperate acts of silence
a season of shutting up and taking shit
scrounging like mice for crumbs
and settling for what
is handed out.
always, there is a lion in me stalking
down the next disappointment
ready to wrap her
teeth around the jugular of a shitty paycheck
drain the blood from a lying lover, and leave the carcass
of winter in the brown grass for the hyenas to pick apart
...but i'm told spring will come soon
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