I have no answers

Death storms in, flabberghasted that my thickness, my

Soft spoken voice, and my poor decisions has not thwarted me off course.

In truth I feel alienated even though I am causing the issue to

To forgo an earthly landing.

I feel sick to my stomach. The fire has been wiped out of my

Chest, and most days I sit in rooms where everything should feel beautiful

And all I can see is the damage.

Death keeps playing cryptograms with Kindness and

Behind their togetherness, an exhausted me

Is trying to decode the next step.

Most days I feel like ashes and embers.

Somehow though, the fire still roars

Even miniscule as it is.

Somehow, I keep going.

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