Holding out.

It’s a dark cloud over my head.
It’s something I can’t fix
and it’s coming down like a ton of bricks
on me,

this realisation.

Someday.
Someday soon
they’re going to find me
dead on your doorstep.

My body all crumpled and broken
in this old grey woolen suit.
My hand on the handle.
My heart in my mouth.

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5 thoughts on “Holding out.

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