(For the mum who could fight no longer)
A heavy feeling that everything is not going to be ok, it plagues the mind and robs the day.
There are too many reasons to fear and doubt, there are thorns on every bush now,
They can no longer be stepped over or avoided,
Pushing your naked body through the pain of letting go, to the isolation of reason and love.
Blood dripping from your cavernous soul as you scream for redemption and reprieve,
No more darkness oozing from your skin,
No more toxic loathing in the crater of your mind,
The souls of the damned pull you downwards, they crush the light in your spirit,
Choke the kindness and softness that once occupied your soul.
Your tear at your skin to make it stop,
You scream at the blinding wind as it robs your breath.
Thorns closing around your throat as the words become muffled,
In a whisper ‘I’m Sorry’
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