If there's anything that now holds me at bay,
Is the question, "why"
Why am I upset?
Why am I angry?
I ask, swallowing my words,
pushing my emotions deep into the crevices of my heart
I ask. I lament. I bind myself. I'm okay.
And yet again, it is the question, "why"
Why me?
Why is it always me?
Why does it have to be me?
I ask, my throat burning
and as my chest grows heavy with burden
I remember, the heart bleeds.
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