It comes to me every day
Greets me like an old friend
Some mornings it will not let me rise
Twenty years now it’s beckoned me
Though each movement hurts I will not give in
I will not be broken by its weight
At times it has drawn me deep into its lugubrious hole
but now I’ve grown quite accustomed to its ubiquity now
It’s mine not to offer
It’s mine to keep
The pathos only I feel I share through lament
God, how my emotions run empty at times
To go back now is only possible in dreams
Sleep when it comes brings relief
Changes come quickly; like the weather
It feels easier now.
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