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It’s becoming harder to hold back the flood. My dam is breaking. Cracks are taking shape up and down the side. Needle holes beginning to leak feelings. I’m putting my fingers over the holes, but the pressure is building and pushing my fingers away. A few places crumble delivering a pounding upon my soul. My legs buckle from the dark force pushing down on me. A geyser of pent up sadness tries to erupt from its confines, though this time I am able to hold back the inevitable deluge to come, in some ways, a part of me looks forward, even hopes for, the flood; the release of pressure against my wall giving me the peace I crave.

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