she tells me not to move
or I might sink even
faster
into the muck that
makes up my life
already neck deep and sinking
with nothing to grab hold on to
accept the illusion of helping hands
she feels sorry for
me even
as she feels Superior
a world war two
general
who has just won a battle
and takes pity on
those
who still litter the battlefield
such as me
not mocking
not this time
just sympathetic
telling me to cease the hostility
since I have already lost the war
and a matter of when
rather than if
the muck rising to the point
where I finally drown
and still I struggle
knowing at the heart she is right
when she can't see
I just can't give up
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