Day 9: Sentimental

A new born lamb- for slaughter

Or the brass box my great uncle made

Her wedding dress

Flints in a molehill

And the last photos of the dying son




Each turns us from ourselves

Into the deepest, most broken





That can change the course of who we once thought we were




Sentimental value?


A word so confused,

Banded about like an insult

Or a hold-all for that which rips us apart

The word should be discarded by civilised people

Who claim to know

How this feels






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