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A Stormy Malady

There's a storm brewing outside,

The sky is shrouded in a color palette

Of dark slate gray clouds

With a mild hint of a golden ray

That has somehow sneaked in

And lit up parts of the clouds;

The monstrosity of the wind

That's blowing away and

And making the trees sway

Push me to think if

It can make me fly;

But the storm outside is

Still weaker than the one that's inside me -

I am clutching a letter opener

In one hand, its sharp edge

Giving way to a trickling rivulet of

Dark red blood down my palm

And onto the floor,

Forming biological polka dots,

And the usual white around my

Saddle brown eyes are now

A deathly red, with all the outbursts

Of tears and unwanted panic attacks,

I wonder if I should do the deed,

Get done with it,

Escape the voices that keep playing

Hide and seek with me in the

Dark corners of my unstable mind,

Telling me that the world,

The big bad fake world

Would be a better place without me;

But I can't.

The coward in me,

That cowers in a cobweb-filled

Corner of my mind

Decides to do what it does the best -

It flees, and with it,

It takes the tiny bit of strength

I have to take the letter opener

On a trip across my arm;

So now, here I am,

Standing in front of a mirror,

Talking about yet another thing

That I started but couldn't finish.

- NaPoWriMo, Day 1

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