You say that I don’t seem ‘myself.’
These days are long and revealing,
so every time I see one through, I grin. Every time I make it home, I dance.
Every time I’m up again after being down, down down,
I’m beating the odds.
Every time I don’t give up,
it’s worthy of celebration. Every time I write a poem,
it’s a bloody miracle. Of course, the me you knew …
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