Monday, June 4, 2018

It's Always the Same

I don't know if what I sense is really happening or if I'm paranoid.

I feel like I'm being pushed away; out of lives.

Maybe I'm the one doing the pushing?

Sometimes I need more attention.

Then when I get it, I tense up, and want to be left alone.

A permanent lump has taken up residence in my throat.

Crying isn't something I like to do; doesn't make me feel relief.

I don't feel much of anything anymore.

On occasion, I feel too much.

Sleep is broken. Needed. Craved.

Yet, I often wake up too early so I don't miss out on anything.

I can't sit still.

My limbs ache and my joints feel twisted.

The anger. The rage. The accusations.

Sometimes it can't get be forgiven; it definitely cannot be erased.

Why do I keep ending up here?

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