It is so hard to persist.

I have lost track of the amount of time.

Following rules that seem specially made for me.

Lashed to a log that I have named as Torture.

I no longer remember if the ropes exist to hurt or save me.

I just pray it never flips over and I drown in the misery.

***

I have been through worse.

I always have.

Yet the sun scalds and the bugs make me their little island.

Even the tiny are huge to the helpless.

I would throw them far away and reach for the water if I could.

I just fear rocking the log and disturbing the precious balance.

***

If only I could know how long my prison sentence was.

If I knew how much room I had to take risks.

Maybe then it would be easier to push through.

A promised release and chance at recovery.

I could use it as a sunscreen.

Soothe my blistered skin.

***

I know I have to be here no matter how far away the end is.

This is my fate to either handle or not.

I just never want to come out with calloused flesh.

I was never meant to live like a stone.

I seek to bleed and live as a human.

Never transformed by something I never asked for.

***

So I push through.

Praying for flesh as sensitive as a butterfly wing.

It is so easy to toughen skin but so hard to soften.

To remove an experience from memory is to be reborn.

Returned to a clear complexion unscarred.

Please at least let sun cloud over before the end.