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on a chronic ailment

no longer a true human being, not really a tangled web of hurt and anger and confusion and physical pain and depression and fear lost, useless, paralyzed doped like a drunken dog doped with careless disregard a bundle of nerves held together with tissue paper, tearing slowly the pressure increases steadily daily it squishes my brain and squashes my heart, already close to broken slipping hands scrape and beg for a tether they used to be strong, steady now they are willowy, cracked barely there there is no back-up; there is no safety net just me, tearing at the seams ready to implode a dying star inhaling its last breath ready to disappear nothing left just a small, glowing ball of matter the remnants of my soul
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Written by
jeanaly
American
Published
Aug 12, 2012
Lines·Words
26·127
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