I need a medically induced coma. I need pills I can swallow easily. My mouth is dry and my body is constricted. I still feel their oval shapes taking up space in my throat. Everyone told me it wasn't my job, but it always felt like the only career calling to me- I don't see anything in my future past five years. I am nothing but a messenger- a self proclaimed author. I am penning letters 6 days ahead of warning the next girl of the war but I have nothing but an invisible bag of trauma to prove my credibility.
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Blue Eyes and Other Sources of Drowning
PoesíaFor the boy with blue eyes. For the love and friendship I grieved, and many other things. Started: 11/20/20 Finished: 8/8/22 My 8th poetry book.