Published on 30 November 2023 at 07:16



Blasted by judgment of my on thought, beaten by my own walk, running for help to slow the pain, escaping fear by a mere gleam. Half baked soured bread and only the smell left in death. Awaken by the buzz in my ears, so loud, back in here with fear, voices of judgment blasted, morning and night. My mental fight. Deep within, helping my own pain.

By: Jennifer B. Hatton 

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