my dog died and I went to hell

my anxiety
might
or
might not
manifest
like
yours

but
i have
splinters
of pain
run across
my shoulder
blades
my teeth
grind
harder
than
the last
man
who
touched
me
without
consent

my gums
bleed
and my
heart
beats
in my
throat

my eyes
can’t find
the
difference
between
numbers
and
alphabets
and my
head
feels
like its
soaking
up
all the
sadness
there
is at a
war
cemetery

and if
you’re
wondering
about the
title of
this
poem

my dog
worked
with the
armed forces
that beat
up an
innocent
man
who
demanded
his rights

;

but
that
is
not the
point
of
this
apparent
poem

;

my
anxiety
is

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