Psych Hospital

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They slip away like wet spaghetti from my fork.
My mind reaches out, but my hands come back empty.

The words I need to tell my story,  lost,
Stumbling around in the darkness of my thoughts.

It’s all too much.
Too much for words.
Overwhelmed.
Afraid.
Staying strong.
Trusting.
Thankful.
Relieved.
Finally.

Lord, I believe. I believe you love my son and you will help him. Thank you. Amen.

 

 

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