The Pull


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Some days it pulls me under,
and I do everything that I can,
to fight against its poisoned grip,
able to remember who I am.
Then others I let it take me,
to the depths of deep despair,
and I struggle to convince myself,
that I don’t belong down there.

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Wendy Pratt

Poet, Author, Editor, Facilitator

Inking Prose & Poetry

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