Friday, September 20, 2013

Dimly Lit

All my life is under shadowed veil,
Pale figures trudging through tasks,
Anger is a dull burn,
Pain is not sharp but aching,
My heart...
Is it still beating?
I can only tell when it's lodged in my throat.
When I'm choking on my angst.
When I'm gasping for love like air.
This half a life I'm living...
living... no.
Existing in.
There is no movement but the slow crumbly rocks taking out all that's underfoot.
Stumble, fall, bruise.
Slowly rise and trudge on,
might as well see where it leads.

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