Crinkled
I feel like tinfoil,
Cut from something stronger,
Cheapened material,
All rolled up and stocked, contained,
I lost dimension.
I feel like tinfoil,
Folding into more creases,
Sheathing unimportant portance,
At your whim, crinkled,
Made to hide hallow secrets.
I feel like tinfoil,
Torn apart lightning,
Malleable bodies and souls,
Conformed to something other,
Never whole again.
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