Sitting in dirt. Rolling in the debris. Holding a beer with both hands. Dirty nails, bitten down revealing cracks and bloody scabs. Leggings and stained tube socks.
What has become of the truth I knew before.
Its so hard to remember, when I can barely see your face. I need the water in my lungs. It brings the comfort of knowing i'm not alone. There are people that know. Inside and out. Who can I be without what was.
The feelings are fragile. The fish bowl glass is cracking and the exits are full.
What is left feels weak. The feet left bleeding from carrying the weight. Give me some air. Some space is all I need. Give me a weak. Give me a shallow whole.
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