Justice is a poor best friend,
Sticking knives in me
Where I can see them.

I reach for the cookie
He slaps me gently
I smell the desiccated marsh

He holds my hand on rollercoasters.
It wouldn’t be fair
For me to die when I
Have been so innocuous

But the tide looked
Innocuous and the
Fish is dead.

I am not a reed in the marsh.

When he takes me home
He always takes the
Long route

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