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East Fork:

A Journal of the Arts​​


​By Katelyn Moore

​It

It controls

It consumes

It sneaks in

Even at my best moments


Of course I want to label it as this inanimate objects

As if it wasn’t living in my head

As if it isn’t a part of me

Or rather that it is just me


I know I possess the power to shut it down

I know I could break the chains

But sometimes it’s easier to wallow


Easier to lay down and let it cover me,

Like a blanket on the coldest day of winter

Sometimes it’s easier to let it,

Consume me,

Eat at me,

Until I am only bone.


As much as it makes me,

Hate myself,

Resent myself

I do it to hopefully get more time,

Until the next time

Sometimes I let It win.