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Poetry: Self-image

I cup my shaking hands
to hide my trembling lips
unable to catch the tears
that flow into the deep,
dark waters of my life



That which is of no use,
I watch sink, slowly,
to the bottom
where it rests,
upon the muddy floor



Once again,
I cup my hands, tightly
and fill them, with, what now
is crystal clear
Splash my face,
rejuvenated
of who I was
before

Learn more about this author, Regina Branham.
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