By Angie Brocker
Reviving my daughter was never an option, yet I refused to realize that. I forced my breath into her lungs. Convinced God and I could give her life once again, I ignored the sticky blood gushing from her fragile head.
Waking up sweating, screaming most nights, my dreams have turned against me as I relive the impossibility of her ever waking up again. Scattered, unpredictable actions and words erupt from deep within me, causing deep concern from my family. The world has turned against me as it plays give-and-take like a child’s game, convincing me that I died that day too.
Imagery was. Dry powerful. I could truly see and feel the scene and the pain. Great job
* very powerful. Typed too fast.