Time Out (first draft)

Today, I am struck,

I wonder when I’ll lay you to rest.

When will I let our mess die?

The scars we left on each other’s surface

haven’t gone away.

 

It’s been three years,

I’ve dragged myself through all that time,

laid on beds of nails so you could escape free.

I spent these years wishing you’d release me

I never stopped to realise:

your freedom

was the burden weighing me down.

-Alex W.

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