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So, what? You're like writing poetry now?

Sometimes I feel I need a rest
the likes of which will never come
the sort that screams to flesh and dreams
Down, clever girl. You're done.
You've won.

And yet I know the rest I seek
is just collapse of bones too weak
and mind too strained
and lungs too drained
to bother noticing defeat.


Very touched by this. It will get easier:)

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