Stricken

I feel exhausted. The presence of anxiety keeps me up at night; I am blindsided by my mornings. I often wish for things seen in fairytales. I have forgotten how to dream.

I felt the rain and heard the warnings of the storm.

Shaken by this dark foreboding. The news carries messages of death and demise. Dewdrop recollections. The pages of my childhood are ripped away.

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