Sunshine and air

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I buried myself
in existence,
hoping its banality
would fill my scars
with numbing apathy
and I would finally
be pain-free

But it turned out
I was allergic
to mundane existence

Anaphylactic shock
sent me flailing —
because the body
never wants to die —
I wormed my way out
through a crack,
a sprout —
fragile and frail,
uncertain of surviving
the next frost —
but alive
in the embrace
of sunshine and air