Grace
a poem by Jesse McCarl
I can see through the trees
This forest is a comb, not a brush
I could step over the brush
But I don’t
You can see me here
And I can see you
But if you don’t make the first step-
Solitude
The opposite of quitting
I can see the other side
I can make it to the other side
No one moves
Save me. Wreck me.
I know it’s not your job
You’ll get hurt in the end
Savior
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