How many
times
do I need
to fall
and brake,
and my
wounds to rot -
to learn
where my
place is?
That I’m
meant to be here
down, on
the ground,
close to
my hell
and far
from your heaven…
I don’t
have the heart
to cry
you rivers anymore.
I don’t
have the eyes
to continue
the fight
and to
live.
I don’t
have the sanity
needed to
keep going
rising up
from the trash.
I give
up.
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