Drafting survival in the margins.
One day at a time.
I make no sense.
Yes, I know, you might have noticed.
I dress in leather and lace.
I walk with my head held high like the Queen
I may someday be-
Yet, I hide behind you like the scared little girl I once was.
Yes, I know.
I make no sense.
I never claimed to.
And that’s okay I think.
—(//thinking out loud//)
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Chronic illness, Luna, and life as it really is.
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