This Is Normal

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We need the rain to clear the skies and allow the sun to shine, alive. I just wish that the shards of icy hail didn't impale themselves so deeply into my skin causing marks that not even the passing of time can heal, scarring and scaring me within my imagined reality to dwell and fear what has been, stunting new growth as self-worth shrivels on barren earth where rotten seeds lie, futile, waiting to grow.