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She Must Go

She’s been a bitch.
Wielding her powers
she lay bare emotions,
scarring heart, bone, and sinew
in her choice of hours, days, and weeks
as she stole that which cannot be restored.

The storm clouds rolled,
the cold winds blew, 
the darkness settled in.
Pain struck with lightening force,
first and anew, 
refusing to abate even in washes of tears. 


Slinging her witchy wiles, 
she whispered heinous messages
of miles of worry, doubt, and fear
pushing them with tools
of court of law, doctors, hospitals
and through the loss of friends.


Thoroughly she spread her grief
and opened many wounds
as thief of calm and well-being
she thought that she had won
but had not considered 
love, support, and strength. 


Now her power wanes.
Time will kick her ass.
It will be good to see the back of her,
to know that she is gone
and to celebrate
by raising a glass to her finish.


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