Grasping At Straws

Smiles are never common and hope is always unseen. I’m normal, frantic, and hungry. Hungry for me. In need of more. I am empty. Void of life. Life is interesting in the sense that it is never what it should be nor what you want it to be. I have thrown myself to the wayside and I am grasping at straws. Trying hard to find me in the sea of possible me’s. I am a worrier and a fighter. My brim is full of weakness but I am strong. Pushing past the hurt and the dismissal. I will overcome. I can overcome. I just have to believe it. But belief is overrated and my heart is being mined. 

My flag of surrender is waved and I am ready for movement. Movement towards change and possibilities. But the moment I hope and take four steps forward the door is literally slammed in my face. I’m a joker in a stack of 52 when I should be one of the four queens. 

I’m grasping and begging. What will become of me?  


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