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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #1342228
because my hands hurt. but more because i love my son.
My fingertips tingle
And I wonder
For how many more years
I will know real use
Of these tired hands

I drain them of their strength
Each night
Holding my head up
So that I may see you off
to sleep

They are numb

And I think
(Son,)
I would rather live without
Than to have lived
Without living

And then they are forgotten
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