Half-Dead Like a Possum Hit by a Truck.
The pounding permeates the insides of my brain. Bang, bang, BANG! Constant pressure stopping me dead in my tracks. Pain wrapping it’s skeletal fingers around my cerebellum and whispering “it’s not over yet.” Snake-like fangs sink deep within, poisoning my empty shell. I struggle to breath. Cold. Shaking. Tired. So tired. Is this how it ends? Hope rests upon my chest, pinning me down. Heavy like a thousand pound weight. I dig my nails deep into the carpet beneath my knees. Deep breath. My muscles tense and then release. A tirade of tears cascade down razor sharp cheekbones and rest in a puddle at my side. I am living, but does that mean I am really alive?