When Crying isn’t an Option but a Way of Life

I want to quit but don’t know how.

Fear flows from my head to heart to paper.

I never asked for this pain,

but I did the right thing;

Now I’m stuck like the tar baby.

I weep and moan, but no one hears-

not even my dogs, because I won’t let them.

I can’t let anyone see the real me.

There’s only one who would help, but he won’t.

Just one more day-everyone remarks.

What if that one more day is my last day?

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