my veins are not vain
they do not show off
but rather,
they shrink and hide
the needle comes
they dance away
even when i have
no desire to fear
so it’s in and out
and in and out
the needles come
at my skin
and speckled with dots
my arms appear
as warzones
with battles won
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Y’know. If, at the end of the year, you made a book of your best poems from here, I would buy it, and shout about it. š