The dark days

Mar 17, 2016 | Depression

Climb a mountain to only move a inch.

Claw, scrape, dig fingernails in dark, dark, dark dirt. Falling. Failing. Slipping.

Once as easy as a wish, moves slow, viscous like honey, but not sweet.

Bitter and familiar, this battle.

Aching, aching, aching, climbing, climbing, climbing, barely moving.

Heavy, heavy, heavy, standing like a question mark, shoulders sagging like bags under sleepless eyes.

Question, question, question, every thought a question.

Climb climb climb, fight fight fight. Don’t fall.

Why? Why fight? Why not fall?

Tired, tired, tired.

Inch, by inch, by inch. Gaining?

Maybe.

Try again.

Battle cry as soft as worn wood, a declaration hidden in a whimper.

Climb, climb, climb. Fight fight fight. Every damn inch.

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