I gasp for air. I am weary.
I sit.
Every fiber of my being begs for rescue.
I am unable to handle this reoccurring pain.
Beat into the ground I feel worthless.
Is this your plan God?
Endure. Respect. Rebel. Impatience.
Pitiful.
I am a mess a heap. I am nothing.
Your plan has unfolded.
Where to now? We've run out of options.
Heaving. Sobbing. Anguish.
I sense it's over.
Sorrow. Realization.
We will never get these moments back.
“Cut” there is no chance for take two.
Our life is an improv gone bad.
Wait. Hold up. I take it back.
Stone. Ice. Steele Soul.
No, you're too late.
Damage has been done.
We've built ourselves a guillotine
Decisions made. It's over.
Halfway down. Can't turn back.
Drops. Sears. “Cut”