Twenty-One, Day

I did not think that I would make
My way this far today
Every step seems so small
I hardly want to pray.
I never know what to say
When I bend my knee at night
I feel the whip crack in my bones
And I don’t want to fight.
I find it hard to ask for love
After all these years
“Make the best of what you have,”
I tell myself with tears.
I want an ease inside of me
Though the world’s a storm
But in my heart the tempest blows
And I am not so warm.
The rain it freezes on my face
As I strain under the load
The way before is rough and steep
And fearful tidings bode.
I see the ravens circling
Perhaps they know a thing or two
about myself that they would share-
about what will come due.

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