This is a test
By Dana PORTER
Sometimes it feels like the world is just swallowing you whole, and you have nothing to show for it.
It eats away at corners, edges of who you are, gaping through the frayed edges of the curtains.
The very curtains with which you block out the universe around you,
This trembling, shaking, trying, shuddering, convulsing, aching, quaking, quivering, crying, and dying pit that you
are so caught up in.
Learn to let it go. To soothe your wounds not with pills of perfection.
But with the balm of reflection
There is no prescribed medication,
That you can take. Every hour and a half,
Of every day.
Not when your mind is caught up in all the whys?
All the lies,
In between the lines,
And the signs, that drive you insane
What is this game?
That god plays.
Always wondering when,
He’ll unleash an ace of spades,
Forcing me to pray,
But where’s my faith if I no longer hold the reins?
I simply fade,
From this life,
From this time,
My mind simmers with the question
Why am I alive?
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