the game

There is something broken in this household. it must be our heart,for the fact that we can not connect with each other, a smile becoming a weapon dragged through clenched wallet.it must our hands,for the simple fact that we do not know how to caress, much less hold each for a greater tomorrow. It must be our feet stilled in childhood greens of missed members masked by the faint gunpowder that rides through the wind landing in our eyes as we play family.

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