Tomorrow I will be me again – but I have no idea who that is anymore – maybe I have never known – the only place I have an idea is under the wide-open skies or on parchment in ink.

Tomorrow I will leave here – to where is still a question mark engraved permanently on my brain matter which quit receiving blood and oxygen months ago.

Tomorrow I want to stand in the rain – let it wet my cheeks paste clothing to body and wash away the world – simply stand and soak up the sky that falls from above – watch lightning split the air into fragments of rage – smile at how small I am.

Tomorrow I will let myself feel.

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