I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,
Rotting flesh and worms do
Not convince me against
The challenge. The years
And cold defeat live deep in
Lines along my face.
They dull my eyes, yet
I keep on dying,
Because I love to live. 

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Literary Life: July in Review | ofBooksAliceJenny @ Reading the End Recent comment authors

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Jenny @ Reading the End
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Hey, you redesigned! I like it. :)

I like “Rotting flesh and worms do not convince me against the challenge” — that seems like a very very Maya Angelou-y thing to say.

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