Once upon a time,
Atlanta was maroon
and I knew no one there.
I made friends from the
stories in my head--
never bothering to make them
into paper dolls.
They were my friends.
As paper dolls,
no one else would welcome them.
Atlanta 2
I thought mountains
in my Bible Belt Appalachia
were jailing and small
but now it'd be hard to leave.
That cage is big enough for me.
Atlanta 3
Concrete, steel, glass
don't breathe,
but mountains, trees, "cricks" do.
Things that breahte
make me breathe too.
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