by That Hannah, survivor.

I am dead.

Once long ago I lived my life by the book.
Follow the rules. Get the grades. Tick the boxes.
Tick. Tick. Tick.

One day I met an angel.
She breathed life to my pages.
Little by little I rewrote the rules
I learned to feel.
I learned to breathe.
I learned to trust.
I had a family: mother, sister, sister, brother.
And so it was, I was born.

Then a black swan swooped in and tore up paper and paper
What did I care? Now I was real, I breathed, no need for a book.
Six months.
I breathed day by day.
Six months.
I realised it was my heart and not dry pages.

Stabbing anger. Bitter. Betraying.
My angel speaks. I thought you were my friend.
I lashed out and lost.
Denying, Fleeing.
Run. Run. Run.

Find a hand in the darkness
Brother. Safety.
I cannot imagine not loving you
He kissed me.
After he said it was just sex.


Can’t breathe. Too fast. No air.
Too late.

And so, I die.

From pain so heavy I cannot breathe
I step. One foot lifted off the ground. Drag, drag forward to land in front of the other.
Don’t care. Don’t want. Never give up. Cannotgiveup. Mustnotgiveup.

Who am I?
I am here. That is enough.

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