Wounded
Some days your absence is an open wound and I have crammed it with words to the rim leaving no room for any other thing to take root
It festered anyways
Some days it is an ocean and I'm neck deep in it, my feet barely touching the bottom and I never learned how to swim
Does it even have a bottom?
Some days it is the harsh bite of metal against my skin and I am hundreds and thousands of paper cuts not bleeding enough to die but enough to paint you a picture.
I am gonna run out of bandages soon
Some days it is the weight on my chest that presses down until I choke from running out of air and taking any number of breathes does not seem to fill my lungs
I guess my share of oxygen is up
Some days it is the feeling of missing a step and my heart lurches into my throat except, it keeps happening in a loop
Either I break out of this or this breaks me
Some days it's in my mind, other days it's all over me. But most days it is me, just me
It festered anyways
Some days it is an ocean and I'm neck deep in it, my feet barely touching the bottom and I never learned how to swim
Does it even have a bottom?
Some days it is the harsh bite of metal against my skin and I am hundreds and thousands of paper cuts not bleeding enough to die but enough to paint you a picture.
I am gonna run out of bandages soon
Some days it is the weight on my chest that presses down until I choke from running out of air and taking any number of breathes does not seem to fill my lungs
I guess my share of oxygen is up
Some days it is the feeling of missing a step and my heart lurches into my throat except, it keeps happening in a loop
Either I break out of this or this breaks me
Some days it's in my mind, other days it's all over me. But most days it is me, just me
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