At this point I just know

Here and there, I see it

in the corner of my eye;

an achievable end to the torment,

a little light in the tunnel,

but I pay it no mind.

After all, achievable and achieved

are worlds apart, and I no longer care

for impossibility.

​

I'm a broken clock, and that’s okay.

If destined to spiral into a shell

of my former self, I would rather relax

and be right twice a day

than chase epiphanic fantasies

of bettering my mental health.

​

At this point I just know myself.

​

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