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1d
I’m suffocating
And I can feel the noose tight around my neck
Choking, gasping
I don’t recognize the hands
The skin is old, the nails *****
As if from digging out of their own grave
I reach up, and grasp
And feel the rope slipping from between my fingertips
The hands are my own
But I cannot feel
I can’t feel anything but
The bite of knife tips against my skin
Imagined, or not
I can feel it
Etching lines like
Fault lines across ceramic
I am untempered glass
On the verge, waiting to shatter
I am shattering
Shuddering, shaking
Shattered
And waiting in the silence
For when I can no longer hold my breath
The small breeze
Will blow the fragments and dust away
Lenora Mira
Written by
Lenora Mira  22/F
(22/F)   
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