Mary Black

Inner Death

Our lives are marked by movement and change.
We know this innately, yet still it seems strange.
We wrestle and grapple inside for relief,
From sadness and loss, heart-hurt and grief.
Lashing out at the world, vowing love no more,
Wounded and weakened in our inner war.
In exhaustion and weakness we finally let go,
Allowing the loss, accepting the blow.

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