I have no power here. No voice. No reason to continue fighting.
I have very little memory, actually, of what it was like to care.
I try to rejoice in my numbness: celebrate the dulled sounds, flat images, and jaded feelings.
The expression I wear is emotionally ambiguous at best,
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Highly intriguing in message for my understanding of the points of description. It is a well crafted poem Rebecca.
Everyday ordeals expressed eloquently.