who knew that it takes a little to love
despite the weather, storm and clouds from Sunday to Saturday
who stood tall, dressed with awkwardness
wearing yellow, too big of trousers and a shy eye to life
who lives in the shadow, a castle made of memories
years swayed between self discovery and self harm
who is always someone's eyes
and ears, and the brain in between
who reads by dim light
because the shadows might have look in
who loved a crucifix
without paying attention to the blood spilled on the bodies
who carried the storm inside her body
five foot tall and still unable to stand alone
who became shoulders, body-parts,
the one who buried a secret in stone
who was the shadow of the stars
that grew from lying too long in the light
who lifted the torch, toward Fred, toward London,
toward the small cities, the rivers, the hills, toward
Autsin
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