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by wednesday's child

a contusion of clouds swells as rain starts
to deepen greys on my brother's gravestone,
a grave reminder of his death alone,
as motley-mottled leaves leave airy art
in the background as my body departs.
i've always been supported by big bones
and skin that darkens where stitches are sewn.
all my veins are the blue roots of my heart,
my heart blooms and blooms from its bloody stem.
the mental illness ascends and descends.
i'm in the paralysis of a whim.
my brush has a sudden stroke as it bends.
the artist feels his father beating him,
and his colors bleed, and his still-life ends.

 
 

Wednesday's Child is a member of our Bipolar Disorder community, and originally posted this poem on our Forum.

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