95. It Gets Worse.

Tonight, I realize one true thing;

I am surviving on a broken wing.

It’s like swimming with a tank full of sharks,

not ashamed that only I see the marks.

It’s like someone throwing many darts,

went around them, and straight to my heart.

One side of me says, “It’s your fault,”

while the other says, “Take a step back, hault.”

I will still dream at this slate in time,

fully awake as I commit my crime.

When all the straight paths have come to an end,

it can only mean a curve or a bend.

I can’t compete with myself anymore,

there I am headed, going out the door.



3 thoughts on “95. It Gets Worse.

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