Time, Space, and the Human Race

Self Reliance

Half of me wants to say "I can, and will, do this." Then the other half is whispering in my ear as it claws at my skin " Give up, you've fought hard, long enough." I'm not gonna stop fighting, but I may continue crying as well. I'm torn apart and nothing can fix me right now. I'm praying for a miracle, but don't think it is coming. I'm begging to be set free of the prison cell that I call my mind.