And the trees are exposing
Their naked limbs again
It's brutal to sit alone
With your self doubt
Wondering how you will return
With the fever of Spring
After being cold and dormant
For so long
The quiet is deafening
So my ghosts can scream
And the darkness illuminates
All that I don't want to see
This war I wage
With myself
Every year
Has claimed
No casualties
It just leaves me
Shaking in the cold and
Riddled with anxiety.
~Amber C. Smith (December 2014)
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