Maybe it’s a gut punch
Nauseous
Mornings
Hidden
evenings
Do you even taste victory ?
Thorn in my side –
I don’t look for permanence
I don’t look for needle & thread to bring about some kind of strand for hope
I fight to live
My best life
Every day
I play the cards I’ve been dealt
Like it’s the ones I wanted
—–
Gut punch
Hand down my throat
Just to find release
I can’t even sleep
—-
I’ve changed…
—-
Dark earth
I can feel myself getting bad again…
The heart breaks
And it leaves its shadowed scar over my skin…
I wake up and for a moment
I’m cut open again
All of my pain
The flame
Is burning in my gut again
I close my eyes
And my breath is short
My throat is dry
And I’m held down
Swallowing the tube again
Pump this broken heart
Cut it out
I don’t want this
Take this from me
—-
Gut punch
You start to live with purpose and intention
I’m not supposed to even be here…
you hold to things loosely
So you continue to grow…
Regarding Samuel 