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You are infectious, infected, infested.

Your disease is devastation, toxic and deadly, piercing and severe.

Gouging wounds.

Ripping, releasing muscle, bone exposed, susceptible.

You knew.

But given a chance to heal, you chose instead to embrace your self sickness.

Stumbling, as you crept away, silently, thinking you were well.

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Instead of Running

Instead of Running

Writing about what happens when I face my fears. Mom, wife, meditator, therapy goer, sports player, dog lover. I only ever wanted to write.