Clutching at straws

A life lingers, but we know it’s slowly dying

A life lingers, but there is always hope we say.

A life lingers, treat this, treat that.

Clutching at straws, to get it to remain.

 

The clutch of a handbag, holding it closed

The belongings spilling out of every crack.

 

The clutch of chickens newly hatched.

The runt, it’s life slowly leaking away.

 

The clutch of a child holding onto it’s parent,

The grasp so tight begging them not to go.

 

This is us, forcing life to remain.

Clutching at straws, maybe, sometimes we should

just,

let,

go.

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