Hold it together, tighten the stitches,
before the secret slips through the cracks
that have been patched too many times.
It's had a long run, with no end in sight,
your choice will not come calling from
a child's magic imagination.
Even a shred of relief refuses to shine,
between the blinds and you'll rub your eyes,
a hundred different times in the same way.
You don't need a fantastic enemy,
or another person's poison convincing you
to go home.
The clock you forgot to wind still
echoes against the bare wall, a steady beat
you've fought so hard to ignore.
It beats for you, time, a relentless curse,
another day, another bad decision
on the trail of silent self-destruction.
Bring your sickness to the light,
the way out ahead, the spirit, for healing,
We are waiting.
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