I can’t remember the exact moment
I gave up my self. Perhaps it was the
Day that importance and worth became
Quaint terms of impossibility.
The culmination of many years of
Foregoing aspiration. A sapling gnarled by
Withering storms, exposed, awaiting
The next calamity to be endured.
A gradual lowering of expectations,
Unperceived and silent evisceration,
Rescue me from the burden of feeling,
Ask me to be someone else.
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