How do I feel?
I’ve been here before,
I’ve felt this.
Retreat to a place,
a place within me,
I need this.
Keep it all down
bottled inside,
it breaks me.
To torment again,
and torture me
like it used to.

Change / Staind / Break the Cycle


I feel like I’m on fire. The oxygen around me is unattainable and the flames force their way down my lungs. I’m burning alive and you just stand there and stare at my reality turns to ash right before your eyes.

You turn away, not another word spoken. No other thought comes to fruition.


It’s all unclear, I fear I’m the only one. I watch the world outside live on as my aching bones hinder me from moving in this little hole I’ve resided in.


It’s safe to say that I’ve pushed you all away. To preserve my heart and flickering soul, I’ve led myself away. But from here, it doesn’t bother you anyway. You’re blind as to what I see, and you continue on. My pulse is present, and yet the life in me feels weak.


Don’t say another word; I already know what you’re thinking. I already know how you feel. Spare me the reasons.


The mask you wear almost fooled me. My hesitation was tested and I almost failed. I don’t know if I should be listening to this hesitation, but it’s been with me for all of time. Maybe it’s better to not question it.


Black and white. The world is splitting inside and outside of me. I’m lost in between the two. The ground is unstable, it’s overflowing and drowning in mud, and now I can’t keep my balance. I fall inside, and I’m crawling through it to find solid ground. People walk in and out, unaffected. Their feet are untainted by the mud, how is this possible? I’m swallowing the mud while screaming for help. My voice goes unheard and I sink lower.


I can’t get this muddy taste out of my mouth. I’ve been swallowing so many lies and choking on the nightmares that infest my brain. Even as I try to vomit it all out, it refuses to be expelled.


I survive ever day, but it’s best to stay here in the mud. Being saving isn’t an option. There is no relief on the other side. You’ll only get your hands filthy if you try to pull me up, and the mud will pull me right back down.


I’ve fallen from grace and the sun laughs at me. Mistakes are made. My words are tangled in the thoughts that suffocate me every moment, in every breath. Quiet voices echo in and out of frequency. But there I am still, alone and covered in the dark blanket of shameful comfort.


These words will mean nothing. Few will understand. They’re simply hieroglyphics from the enigma that is my mind. You will try to decipher the meaning, but you will give up. The frustration will consume you and you’ll have a tiny taste of what I swallow constantly like spit.


The anger kills me inside but you’ll never know it.

 

 

I can’t breathe.

 

 

xoxo,
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