it doesn't matter how many stones i throw;
all the windows are broken.
let the bulls run wild,
let the rains come down,
let me remember what it feels like again
to be me.
these windows have been broken for so long.
i tried to hide them behind the curtain,
until yet again
a stone i threw.
instead of a crash
there was silence
because i have thrown that stone before.
and why fix the glass
when i might throw that stone again.
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