Jan 2019
Sometimes,
I start to hurt just enough
To where I feel nothing at all.
Sometimes,
My lungs feel like
They're filled with fire.
Burning me from the inside out.
Sometimes,
My poor, fragile heart
Takes one too many hits,
And beats toxic blood.
Sometimes,
I can feel the memory
Of the once vibrant and beautiful
Butterflies that used to reside within me.
But now they're just
Gone.
Sometimes,
I can't breathe.
Sometimes,
I can't see the beauty
In breathing.
Sometimes,
I absolutely...
Cannot...
Breathe.
I start to hurt just enough
To where I feel nothing at all.
Sometimes,
My lungs feel like
They're filled with fire.
Burning me from the inside out.
Sometimes,
My poor, fragile heart
Takes one too many hits,
And beats toxic blood.
Sometimes,
I can feel the memory
Of the once vibrant and beautiful
Butterflies that used to reside within me.
But now they're just
Gone.
Sometimes,
I can't breathe.
Sometimes,
I can't see the beauty
In breathing.
Sometimes,
I absolutely...
Cannot...
Breathe.
This is the final part of one of my favorite poems. I was in a very bad place when I wrote this and I remember crying while writing it. It made me feel so much better, and I hope reading it will make someone else feel better. Parts 1 and 2 are on my profile if you would like to read the entire poem. Thank you!
