I Think I Cried Wolf One Too Many Times

It feels like I’m reaching out,

grasping at everything I touch,

begging everyone to stick around

no matter how much they’re hurting me.

(Or maybe I’m hurting them.)

I feel manic in my head, total mess,

unhinged or unglued at the core,

just begging the lights inside my skull

to turn off so I can no longer see.

(Or maybe so I see more clearly.)

There’s doubt in my mind and

and fear in my thoughts and

pain in the blood that courses the veins

of my failing, fragile body.

(Or maybe its stronger than I think.)

I’m not oblivious to the chaos,

but I am ignorant to the healing.

I am going, going, going,

but does it only end when I’m gone?

(Or am I searching for the beginning?)


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