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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1832693
Forces consume
Strange forces drag me down
like duress in the evening light.
I struggle, but I know
my weakness is useless against the tide
that swallows me whole
as I sink into the abyss.
I know I should be panicking,
but comfort ensues
and warmth flows over tired sinews
that creak and pinch
without warning or leave.

I tire, and my fatigue
relaxes the grip of muscles
that rack my body.
The contortions that once were
melt into limp gunny-bags
that take repose
abreast my frame.

My exhaustion acquits me
and I give in to the falling.
Rest is my savior,
and I am free to find
that it is in my weakness
I find my greatest strength.

© Copyright 2011 Turtle ~ KanyáthƐko:wa:h (marnts at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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