6 Minutes

Its 3:15, 
I lie awake,
though still as can be,
to lessen the ache.

A bag by my side,
should I get too sick,
my inside are churning,
the air, thick. 

Stress piles on fear,
anxiety layden,
restless, alone,
a journey, maiden.

A blip on the screen,
once undetected,
adds to the feeling,
I’m only defective,
while bruises and scars,
wallpaper my skin,
it must be wrath,
but what is the sin,
that pours on like acid,
another season of beating,
why must Your peace,
be so damn fleeting?!

And there’ nothing I can do,
but lie here and wait,
as the waves roll through,
heavy with fate,
but I don’t want to accept it,
don’t want it to be,
it’s stories I hear about,
but it isn’t me!

I want to turn over,
but the pain still stuns,
another wave of the cycle,
it’s 3:21.

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