over
over
overwhelmed
when a cubic metre of work
comes crashing down on my head,
knocking the wind from my sails
and pushing me

under
under
understand
I cannot see the forest for the trees;
I cannot see the tree for the bark,
the bark that bites
and bites to the bone

with
with
without
leaving marks on the flesh,
still extracting blood from the stone —
the stone that was once an impassioned heart
with fiery dreams and ideals

in
in
inside
this tumultuous cell.
We all hold hands in covalent bonds.
Don’t dare drop them —
for this is the hinge upon which
the universe hangs.

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