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butchers knife

To Cook A Stone

Don’t ask me
How I feel
A butcher doesn’t flinch
When he leads the humble sheep
The way the stew is cooked.

Don’t pull me
From my tears
That drown me every day
By words you always say
And ones you never say.

Don’t tell me
I’ll be fine
When you know in your mind
You had the cure I need
But gave it all to him.

Don’t mock me
With your smiles
At me, it holds no warmth
I’ve seen you smile at dusk
And turn the night to dawn
Because you smiled at him.

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