There is a promise I have made

That I am not sure I can keep

The weight of the world upon

These hollow, hollow shoulders

They ask me how my thoughts are

They ask me if I’m planning again

They don’t know that I am lying

That I say I am good because

Their worrying does no good

That I tell them what they want

To hear because they provided

The help I did not need

The evil held at bay by white knuckles

They crack though

They bleed though

They grow weak and I am worried

That some day I will not be able

To repel all my demons and

They will swallow me whole

Then all the words I have ever

Tried to write

Tried to speak will be as

Those other authors who

Took their own lives

Trying to write of love and hope

These words are mostly for me

Trying to believe in the power of

The love and hope I speak of, but

This thing follows me everywhere I go



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