it's called hurt and it's called underneath awake....

it's called the terrible awareness....

I hold on....

it's called blind and mental!

it's called the horrible understanding....

I may never arrive

...I am holding on!

I never tried to let go....
it's pure luck my hands help my....heart

and so shattered my identity is an imperfect gloom...

...there is little left but the ends of my fingers

hanging on for dear life