Please, Pull the Dart you Shot into my Chest.

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I want to say that it feels like some days I am suffocating,
But it is every day.
Every...breathless, tearful, dying...day.
I do everything in my power to not remember the pain,
Just pretend I'm not standing under all the piercing rain.
I do everything in my arsenal to cut the aching from my heart,
A downpour that's pierced my chest like a dart.
But it's there. It hurts. It taunts me. It claws at my soul.
The only way to keep from crumbling to the ground,
Is to not even remember who I am,
To not let my thinking mind make a sound,
To not pull the branch that breaks the dam.
I'm haunted by the knowledge that I'm wounded,
As I lay there broken on the floor.
All aware of the fatal shot that will soon take my last breath,
And free my soul in the final release of death.

1/30/18

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