Every single day is a game of tug-of-war; I have to fight, push, and pull for something. Every single day it is double or nothing. I pulled and pulled and pulled and saved my soul from being rotten. I dug my hands and feet in the sand—the moon controlled the tides. The moon is watching over me. The moon is my protector. I was protected because I am here. I guess I should be grateful. I am breaking. When will enough be enough?
-Charlena E. Jackson
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