What I Am Able To Withstand
How many voices can I withstand?
Counting the days like the clock on my hand.
As panic creeps up and away.
Panic I resign myself to as it threatens to keep hope at bay.
Voices dust me and salt my pain.
As the night churns on, I abstain.
From the crying, that will only bloom this hurt.
So instead, I bite my shirt.
As drool drips like the sweat in the air.
Instead of sleeping through the night, I despair.
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