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Weary

by Clayton Michaels

Two days without sleep, chasing distraction, finding no peace or satisfaction; terrified by anxiety and afraid to stop running or it will catch me.  Drowning in a sea of mistakes with lungs full of guilt and a heart that aches; if only I could swim back to shore…  but I can’t even breath, I can’t take anymore.

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SuicidalThoughtsButRefuseToKillMyself 11/28/2018 - 1:35 pm

I don’t know your situation mine probably differs from yours but I don’t know if your user name is really your real name I didn’t want mine on here but anyone could find a way to take my data such as the people who operate this site probably already know who I am because or data mining, data hacking, data tracking and what not but I do like your poetry.

Some people say that within the days and nights,
We seem to fight within ourselves with others,
Some of us fight with our brothers,
Some fight with their sisters,
One of the greatest fights we have is simply with ourselves,
The struggle of loss, the struggle of pain, the struggle of hate, the struggle of suicidal thoughts,
And all the other struggles may we find peace in life and peace in death for we all must come to terms with whether we like it or not.

TiredGenX 11/29/2018 - 12:24 am

You’re a beautiful poet: it seems like a natural gift. Maybe that’s your golden shovel?

Clayton Michaels 12/1/2018 - 9:57 am

Gold is a soft metal.

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