My bones


If I didn’t have my writing then what? Life would surely be unbearable. I’m no musician or artist – I’ve tried both. Words are my Achilles heel, the hole in my dam, they are the unmanned lighthouse set against a raging sea. The more I try to control their course, the darker the path becomes. My bones ache with over-stimulation, eyes lose sight of which of you are still here. Kill me but there’s hope on what I leave behind.

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