Saturday, 31 January 2015

Even when the weights are lifted, weariness remains.

I looked for a new job. The bird in my head was dying. Trapped inside a birdcage skull, longing for freedom but too timid to try it.

So I went back to work. My whole heart was dying. Whilst I pushed the papers to and fro and wrote letters to pacify the whining.

I finished what I had to do. Instead of giving up on trying. But I left a little bit of me behind, my soul was slowly dying.

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