The sun is blinding, the birds
swooping and the waves
crashing- everything
is moving and she
is still, still and thinking

that this heaviness
is not apathy. Time has not
broken, after all, what makes her
tick – she cares so much
she is torn between all

the dreams she wants to live
not oscillating
between all and nothing,
not that, never that
she tells herself

until her mind runs
out of words
with which to feign conviction
that there is a difference
between these dilemmas at all.

No, she has not lost
herself, but the enormity of the proof
she needs to keep believing this
has expanded until she cannot
fulfill it without breaking.



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