

Morning RoutinesI stand in the shower in an effort to drown my insanity I stand here because there was no ocean available I cry no tears; there is enough water I stand here to drown out the memories I sob, as my body commands it The screams that I scream are not of me. They are of a deeper, baser instinct that is the path of grief I scream because if I do not, I fear I may lose what remains of my sanctity I pound my head against the door I press my forehead against it in some hopeless attempt at finding peace The skin is stretched tight across my knuckles and they appear white They bruise as tMorning Routines
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