Sometimes, i think,
'if i died, how long would it take for someone to miss me?'
And that's a true thought.
It lays heavy on my soul.
Because life is heavy.
It is suffocating,
Like someone is sitting on my chest,
not an elephant, that's silly,
No,
an actual human being,
one that i love,
but is content
with watching me die,
and probably being busy with, "something",
whilst i struggle to live.
So,
Let's talk about that heaviness,
how it creeps in,
sometimes you don't know it has a pulse,
that it's something actually living,
a parasite that you grow to love,
stockholm syndrome.
Oh man,
people,
are,
heavy.
They think their weight on a scale
bares their true worth,
not knowing that their
wearied shoulders carry the burden of truth.
The heaviness that you bring with you,
through life,
that you carry with you like a dead body,
dragging by the ankle,
behind you,
for who you think you should have been,
and a boulder you push in front of you,
with your other hand,
for everything you're trying to be,
whilst struggling, choking for air,
whilst dragging your legs through invisible tar,
whilst trying to keep your eyes from drowning in sand,
and all the while your heart
covered in lead,
your **** beautiful, ****** heart,
keeps beating.
Oh, man,
The anxiety of living through this,
the beautiful exquisite torture,
the utter privilege,
of living a heavy life.
Oh man,
how,
heavy,
people,
are,
and how they do not know how to stop
looking,
at the numbers,
on the scale.