Somewhere in the middle of a ranting call, I heard myself squeal,
And completely broke down over the loss of my husband,
The grief shook me, I assumed I was already accustomed,
Who knew, a tiring week,
Would make me feel so weak,
I was drained,
And relieved,
For letting out a hysterical sob,
I could feel the violent throb,
Inside my brain and heart,
Those feelings never rest,
It hits you waves,
And clogs your breathing and airwaves,
Perhaps I should rest,
But this elephant sized memory that I have, makes me feel both cursed and blessed,
The Friday exhaustion is real,
And it's only human to let out an occasional squeal.
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