(Untitled)

[balanced_entity]

I try to stand, but I am week. My hands reach the ground so that my lips may touch the heavens, but my legs give out and ground me all the more. Dust and blood drip down my face. A tear drops, my arms give out, I taste the bottom. It's cold. It's night. I say nothing coherent, nor am I anything of coherence. I am broken and weak.  I  cannot stand,

Comments

[goddessdreams]

I know how you feel; it's been nearly a year since my mother passed away from liver cancer. They couldn't do anything either. If you need anyone to talk to, I'm still here.