Suppose

Suppose

I was supposed to conquer the world but Gabe’s death and my surgery
No one ever heard from me
A degree I couldn’t see
because I was obsessed with grief
Was it his death or the scar on my chest?
Neither could ever be processed
and put together
I couldn’t ever see forever
like I use to
Every poem became his tribute
or complaints
about my life and myself
God knows I needed help
My mental health
was taking its toll on my physically
and fucking spiritually
I hated God for all this
and I don’t know if anyone noticed
Gabe would have
but I’m depressed in the past
and the future seems so bleak
now look at me I’m stuck talking about my grief
I’m just weak
I worry about every week
So anxious and impatient
I know I’m stuck
then suddenly I don’t give a fuck
I’ve given up

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