I beg the sky, the grass,
the trees to release me.
As if they hold the key.
I envision my head hitting
the bark of this tree over and over again.
Out of this darkness my longings lead,
like blind guides.
Aching need sits in the deepest pit,
I barely recognize as my soul,
in this, its current color of kohl.
Lies drip like morning dew
from the unreliable voice in my head.
Escape has eluded me,
times too many to enumerate,
But the drive to fight resurrects itself
as misty rain saturates my hair and clothes,
washing away some of the pain and sadness.
If only for a moment I am radiant
and dance with pleasure and rele...
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