Altitude Sickness

I fell.

And it’s bee difficult to rise again

Because the air I once breathed
Is thinner than I remember

Choking on words
I use
To convince myself
I belong

While I may not be made for the mountains
I’ll adapt

Becuase I know in my core
I have every right to climb
As high as I can
Until my body gives out

Satisfied at my progress

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Above the Morning Lark

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Measuring Stick