Poem 35

Unwarranted shame imprints on the mind

Poisoning otherwise pure moments

Infecting the smiles of momentary relief

From a grief abundantly potent.

The struggle to heal and fight is real

The weariness impedes battling limbs

The heart, the stomach, the brain all weak

Marching making no more than a quiver.

Dragging the soulless creature to the front

To face the demons with open arms

Embrace or decline? It is not yet decided

But a fight will occur ’til death do us parted.


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