domingo, 17 de septiembre de 2017


And when the night comes crashing down,
I have to pray
to be able
to get up again.
And fight for air, 
With each breath.

Because my brain,
Is overheating.
And the point,
of all this living
Is getting blurry.

Please tell me,
How do you do
To die a little death
Every night
But beg for the chance of life
Every morning?

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