Probably Tomato

It doesn’t burn;
it just feels like someone poured
cream of mushroom soup
and concrete
into my middle.

This is sadness, I think.

I always thought I was immune,
but it looks like that’s not
the case,
as I sit here
heavy and miserable
loaded and
down and out,
wondering when happiness
will come back to me
and what flavour of soup
I will use
as a metaphor for it.

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