don’t follow me

I was created in Gods’ image,

but every day I fall short

.

And some days the pain of imperfection is too great

.

I don’t have pills or Sex to numb me

.

I am awake now,

more than ever;

so why am I dreaming of the dark again,

more than ever?

.

My mind chatters,

reminding me

that until I’m taken home,

I’ll always be alone

.

I look up at the lights,

I pray for a fire

.

I walk slowly in the dark

.

I blink and I’m still here

.

I swallow the minutes,

each

one

more difficult to swallow

than

the

last;

scraping my throat,

but never killing me

.

The Minutes sit on my chest,

watching me patiently,

waiting

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