Your skin stretch across growing limbs. You’re somthing fierce. Reconcile with it until you feel worthy. Every fear grips your chest. It’s suffocating. It’s unfair. It’s depleting. You’re the farthest thing from a hero to yourself, so who’s going to save you? Pray over it. Let it go. Let it breathe on its own. How can you let it be without killing it? Your spirit is fragile. Spring has a way of making you vulnerable and you hate it. Your response is noted: you work for sleep. Earn rest. Create a production over what needs to be done. Clench your jaw. Brittle nail beds. Sweat through your sleep. Bite back at soft words coming from soft people. Say you’re sorry and sorry and sorry for being so anxious. Call your own bluff with no clue on how to fix it. Reach for answers without knowing where they’re at. Lose your balance and fall. Stand back up. Wake in the mourning. -AMT ©️