Ficly

lactic acid

it’s old, this burning
in my calf
but my innocence
is new
these hazel windows
let a draft
from a tempest deep
within
I need to wait
’til I can hide
to bask beneath
the rain
these shadows hide
my broken face
and blacken
my poor sight
these shooting pains
run down my leg
but at least I know
I can still feel

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