Dancing.
I dance on the clouds sometimes.
There times I am buried deep.
Almost too deep.
Too deep.
I'm sofficiating!
I can't breeth!
The pressure everyone puts on me.
No mum it's not athsma.
It's anxioty.
Plastic wrap around my lungs.
Tighter.
I'm dead.
Only on the inside though.
Still alive, sorta, on the outside.