They, are not your possession
to mold
They, are from you
but not, of you
Their shoulders
don’t carry your sins
Their feet don’t carry
your legacy
Their eyes chart their own paths
between the night stars
Their hearts soar through clouds
of their own shaping
They, are not chained
by blood or barbed words
They, are free to unfold
where your eyes no longer see
heart no longer beat to
blood that no longer
sear with a longing so brazen as Life
You no longer wish to Sea, Captor
who anchors his sinking ship
on tiny ankles.
.
.
.

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