Death Grip.

Perhaps I am tired and weakened by things,
being battered to bits by the passing debris…
like the fat trimmed away from the rest of the meat,
flaking ash of the embers dying out on the beach…
Maybe I have embraced at last all that’s haunted me,
held on to the truths it brings, my grip ever-tightening…
allowed myself to cut the ties that have been poisoning,
each and every thought I have, and all of my memories.

Go ahead...say somethin'!

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