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.
YOU ARE READING
Time, Space, and the Human Race
PoetryMy third book of poetry. I'm excited to write again.