deepundergroundpoetry.com

Get back up

Terror still claws at my chest
So I smoke it away
The more I smoke
The easier I rest
The less the terror claws at my chest
But days still come where I cry all the way home
Where I fall down on my knees and cry for hours
Without moving at all
Just rocking
Just rocking as I sob in the echoing silence
Then I get up
I wash my face
And I remind myself
You lost it all more than once
You pick it up
You carry on
Because that’s what we do in this family
No time or space for the weak
You get back up
Written by Rayne
Published
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