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Stress

A Poem

By Frankie KnightPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Can I just startBy sayingI can't breathe

TightWhere the air comes inTighter stillAs it leaves

Clicking nailsPicking scabsItching at blank space

ShakingMy skeleton is shakingMy skin is jellyIt's trying to hold onTo keep itself wrapped aroundWondering what has gotThe skeletonSo nervous?

Can't eatCan't stopNothing fuels, nothing satisfiesI am starving, but so full

Full of so much moreThan an unfulfilled appetiteBurstingSplitting openLike foam, slowly finding it's way into all the gapsIs this insulation?Is this supposed to help? Is it padding, for the next timeBuilding me upWrapping me in cotton wool, so that this doesn't happen againMaybeMaybe next time I will be readyMaybe by next timeI will be able to breatheMaybe next time I will remember, god dammitMaybe it is foam, and cotton woolI hope my skin can hang onAnd the skeleton can settle downSo that my poor brainCan have a turn

To try to understand

sad poetry
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