Part XVIII<\/p>\n
Letting go of the hands full of flowers is hard,
\nbut their fragrance has begun to choke me,
\nand I cough so hard,
\nit pulls the fibers of my spinal cord,
\nrattling my entire body,
\neverything is unclear and drowning seems inevitable;<\/p>\n
I fight the diseases,
\nevery single moment
\nof every single day,
\nand everyone around me says,
\nhang on \u2013 it will get better\u2026<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve been hanging on all my life, – Michellia D. Wilson 8\/24\/14 1 AM<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Part XVIII Letting go of the hands full of flowers is hard, but their fragrance has begun to choke me, and I cough so hard, it pulls the fibers of my spinal cord, rattling my entire body, everything is unclear and drowning seems inevitable; I…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":21,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3821","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-marathon-poem"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3821","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/21"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3821"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3821\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3896,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3821\/revisions\/3896"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3821"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3821"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3821"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\nit does not get better;<\/em>
\nthe beatings come in different forms;
\nI am tired \u2013 bruised, bloodied, broken,
\nI loved with all my heart,
\nand it was mutilated \u2013 put through a meat grinder,
\nI cried all the tears,
\nand then some more,
\nI felt the highest of highs,
\nand all the increments of feeling from that high,
\nto the bottom, where sediments lay,
\nthe disease of my brain opening every door on every floor\u2026<\/p>\n