At first the road seemed seemed impassable

Such a long distance with no sighted end

90 pounds was

A hollow eyed effigy, struggling not to drown

100 pounds was

A sickened mouth, forcing itself to swallow and chew

110 pounds was

A hunger to gain lost appetite, swill of food laying heavy with each urged step

120 pounds growing muscle

Punching the fuck out of weakness and despair

125 the goal, she fought, her joints bloody and plastered together

When she arrived, her body, her mind, her vibrating soul, she stood and cried

At the distance she’d travelled, cracked knuckles captured in dried clay

Stretching like bad memories, bleached by unrelenting sun

In spite of this, still, a flower is able to bloom

0 Replies to “The road”

  1. Most say, that for some, it is when they are at their weakest, that the fight begins:

    “Punching the fuck out of weakness and despair

    125 the goal, she fought, her joints bloody and plastered together

    When she arrived, her body, her mind, her vibrating soul, she stood and cried

    At the distance she’d travelled, cracked knuckles captured in dried clay

    Stretching like bad memories, bleached by unrelenting sun

    In spite of this, still, a flower is able to bloom”

    You found your strength–it’s been there all along.

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