Advance
Nauseated daylight,
frazzled hair, split ends,
a notorious headache's yell,
and the collective understanding
that this universe expands forever;
yet, somehow, a tiny trickle of life
exists within us
beneath the stale morning breath,
the hallowed, darkened eyes,
the chipped nails;
a pulse remains, persisting,
and it demands to thrive
with or without being told.
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