I’m scared
And I’ve got these occasional
10 feet thick ice walls that sprout up around my heart
For when the thinking about it gets hard
And the breaths I breathe are barely there
And I can’t even thank the trees for giving it to me
When I feel it hit my chest and it hits harder and harder
Until all I notice is the harshness of it all
And once I do
Like a cat scratching on a door
I’m trying to punch the walls down
But once they’re up there’s no getting in or out
Wisdom teeth
Retractable, receding only when they’re ready
Sometimes I just wish it was easier just to sit
Not every action needs a reaction but I’ve already planned out 500 different ways this could go
And I can’t find a solution for them all
Panic attack narrator with shaking hands
Exposing herself to no one because
it’s much easier that way
If what they see is me
I hope that no one ever has half the opinion of myself I do
That’s too much hate to try and pretend to handle
I still laugh and blow out imagery candles
Because I dislike the smell of burning wicks
And I still have the same opinions as me
But something else creeps in when it smells left over food
And I just want to not provoke it anymore than I already seem to do
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 5:52 AM UTC
I’m scared
And I’ve got these occasional
10 feet thick ice walls that sprout up around my heart
For when the thinking about it gets hard
And the breaths I breathe are barely there
And I can’t even thank the trees for giving it to me
When I feel it hit my chest and it hits harder and harder
Until all I notice is the harshness of it all
And once I do
Like a cat scratching on a door
I’m trying to punch the walls down
But once they’re up there’s no getting in or out
Wisdom teeth
Retractable, receding only when they’re ready
Sometimes I just wish it was easier just to sit
Not every action needs a reaction but I’ve already planned out 500 different ways this could go
And I can’t find a solution for them all
Panic attack narrator with shaking hands
Exposing herself to no one because
it’s much easier that way
If what they see is me
I hope that no one ever has half the opinion of myself I do
That’s too much hate to try and pretend to handle
I still laugh and blow out imagery candles
Because I dislike the smell of burning wicks
And I still have the same opinions as me
But something else creeps in when it smells left over food
And I just want to not provoke it anymore than I already seem to do
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