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stationary - Jennifer Chung

Afraid of the violence
In her hands
And in her head.
Watched a reel of daddy's film
Spill into daddy's good left arm
And land onto her broken face.
She runs away
To that safe place,
But he's no better.
He's just the same.
Cycling in trauma and tragedy,
Eating the trap of abuse and apathy.
Dripping down
From battered eaves,
Tripping around the
Trash of middle class
And fighting to stay lost
In a fucked-up past
She grabs a gun.
Loaded with Gentlemen's Jack
She takes off fast
From the shotgun blast
That rides high into
The night sky
Missing her mark
And coming up empty.
Always coming up empty.