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Under The Weather
I was never the strongest. fastest, or smartest.
But I miss feeling normal when my nose starts to run.
It drips and drips like a leaky faucet.
Or when the boiling blood in my veins meets the cold air on my skin.
Existing suddenly takes effort and every muscle struggles to perform.
Each movement threaten to have them slip off like the flesh on a tender rack of pork ribs.
Still, I continue to move.
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