She is calling me out again.
Come and play, she says.
If it's worth grieving for,
It's worth destroying.
I have no strength for it.
I have surrendered to it.
I have no talent for it.
I suffer like I bleed,
Jagged edged, of problematic depth.
She snarls. She wants me dead.
Die, she says then,
Die in your wrath, and then you'll rise.
I rise.
I wrap the tattered cloak of my love around me, And rise howling.
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