is like a statistic
written on your skin
you wake up
and you wonder every time
what it is you are doing
you want to check in
so you won’t have to check out
and face someone else
maybe they could take off the chains
littering your ribs and ankles and wrists
is like drowning
or maybe like being ripped apart
or choking
either way
you feel dead
or dying
and you can’t make it go away
it sits and waits
until it takes you down
like someone hit you with a brick
and you can’t remember how to stand up
let alone walk
you wonder how you even remember how to breathe
and today it feels crushing
like someone is standing on my chest
or even my head
refusing me the space
that I long to claim
because it’s not mine anymore
and it hasn’t been
for ten years
and I can’t explain
that I think about it
only as often
as I think about dropping off the earth
I guess that’s never
but that isn’t quite true
I wonder why I can do what I do
the comfortability isn’t quite there
but then again it never really will be
what can I expect
For a child growing up
in a world of fear
and tight spaces
lies and chaos
dripping on the walls
like alcohol soaked veins
were wrapped around my throat
and legs were cut on fences
and the flashlights still blind my eyes
you can never forget the things you live
day in and day out
getting crushed under the walls you built
even for a day
you feel okay
your blood flows like it should
and nothing can penetrate you
in an instant
you lose everything
someone is there
and you know they are
they’re listening
and you can’t even tell them
how bad it is
they just know
it sucks,
Everything sucks
and I can’t sleep
and I don’t eat
and I’m sad a lot
that’s all they’ll hear
and they try so god damn hard
when you don’t even fucking know
how to fix it anymore.
I thought about checking in
it would be much easier
if someone else
could figure out
what the hell was wrong
and I could evade the slow demise
I have so steadily headed toward
muting myself
in the only outlet I have
like it’s the right thing to do
cause no one needs to hear this
locking myself in a box
as if that’s what I’m supposed to do
as if it’ll make things better
for everyone else
cause I thought I could do it myself
as it turns out
I’m not too good at this anymore

The End

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