The living ain’t easy

It hasn’t taken away everything

there is still me inside.

Don’t forget I rise, fall, stumble, then I suppose because I’m here, I rise.

See even grey lizards can be

Newborn from cinders.

My number is definitely not over

Mother’s nature to beta block a seizure on Kronos’s clock.

merely an earthling in my mortal dregs tried

to take my heartbeat, crush it in my hands

So many times,

Yet here I still am.

I pulverised the very heart of my soul

This beaten path

Led to a southern state in need of heart donors

Many lived as secluded slaves

pieces pulled apart.

I may be flawed but you’re no patron saint

for you have a blood hue lusting for the Big Easy.

See there it is!

Blemished if only so faint.

Self-hatred became queasy & took it out on my star crossed lover

Call it, resting bitch face syndrome.

True

My love can be seen -it hovers.

Moments of Rapture are fleeting

Take time to bask in my lover’s latest sunshades.

Who’s to say we’ll never meet up with

a black dog again

– a self-made state of oppression.

The Living aint easy.

(inspired by
my relationships my temper and I write to make sense of my thoughts)

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