There is this burgeoning light, trying to fight aside undeniably flicker its tired and tamed flame and to inundate itself to get in, eventually indeed

And she sees it all for its heart-breaking, tumultuous worth, has to have done, needs to lividly search amid the disheveled hurt and to find a way, any which way, forever forth-forward

These twisted and bleeding words are seriously, painstakingly slurred and, no doubt about it, something has been inordinately stirred within the best parts of her otherwise pulverised being

Keen to love and to live and to finally instill, this earth-shattering thrill to make up the deafening difference, simply crying-shamed elongated the amount of uncountable time this particular thing has taken to shaking her up

To. The. Circumstantial. Core.
To forsake her all of everything – she is found to be synopsised bleeding…

In. These. Shy-lock. Wings
Of lonesome aside insurmountably, lethargically enhanced hers

Willing to make it all make tremendously strenuous sense again, no less vilified by this pummeled upon, upside-down life
A knife-edge might actually matter of spectacular fact turn out to be rather nice in complete pardoned comparison

She was once a mother, a daughter, a long-lost living, seething to be sister… a handsome husband’s untainted upon, sprightly, eyes-wide open to the whole unsightly world wife

Only, by the tremblesome end, did her very own mind twist the gut-wrenching knife – deeper and deeper to keep her disabled inclined

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