Day to Day Poetry, poetry

Day to Day Poetry # 58

There’s a constant stream
of self-blaming
and automatic learned helplessness
that nips at me relentlessly.
Some days it’s tolerable,
and some days
it swallows me whole.

Your voice
is a celestial hand
that reaches out to me despite distance,
in spite of walls built on
the foundations of self-defence
and thousand yard stares ingrained in
gauntlets made of steel –
bringing into life, words that
reverberate in my heart to keep
me hoping for another day,
awake and
dreaming.

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