I woke up today,

Heaving for air, healing,

I sprained my hands and my feelings,

Never thought that picking up what clothes should I wear would be as much as hard as picking up myself.

That even getting up is twice as difficult as sleeping at night.

Where my morphines at?

I’m counting down the days,

while I count on you.

Do you want me to stay just long enough to have coffee and probably,

Live another day?

Or not.

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2 thoughts on “Eight

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