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ShesGracePoems
I feel heavy in my chest-- an anxious weight of the knowledge that it's about to be bad again; I can feel it getting bad again and the trigger might have been you or it could have been this impending sense of doom I cannot seem to shake-- but it's going to be bad again I can almost grab it-- fingers desperately trying to pull a dumbell off my lungs my arms are too weak and the bell is too slick and I can't seem to grasp it quite yet but it's there; sitting, heavy, holding me down while the sword of damocles is hanging above my throat-- I can see it's getting bad again but I cannot move, and the sun is setting quick-- the darkness almost comforting as a distraction from the cool steel of the blade taunting me-- I cannot seem to watch as the sword begins to drop it's getting bad again, I can feel it-- see it in the ways the world's colors tinge a subtle sepia, hear it in the ways my favorite songs don't sound as they should, taste it in how foods are turning repulsive to my mouth--nauseous and burning, smell it in the smoke I use to drown out the constant ringing of alarm bells, trust me when I say: I'm not prepared for the worst--and well, it's getting bad again
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Oct 3, 2024
Oct 3, 2024 at 8:42 PM UTC
Fabrication
I feel heavy in my chest-- an anxious weight of the knowledge that it's about to be bad again; I can feel it getting bad again and the trigger might have been you or it could have been this impending sense of doom I cannot seem to shake-- but it's going to be bad again I can almost grab it-- fingers desperately trying to pull a dumbell off my lungs my arms are too weak and the bell is too slick and I can't seem to grasp it quite yet but it's there; sitting, heavy, holding me down while the sword of damocles is hanging above my throat-- I can see it's getting bad again but I cannot move, and the sun is setting quick-- the darkness almost comforting as a distraction from the cool steel of the blade taunting me-- I cannot seem to watch as the sword begins to drop it's getting bad again, I can feel it-- see it in the ways the world's colors tinge a subtle sepia, hear it in the ways my favorite songs don't sound as they should, taste it in how foods are turning repulsive to my mouth--nauseous and burning, smell it in the smoke I use to drown out the constant ringing of alarm bells, trust me when I say: I'm not prepared for the worst--and well, it's getting bad again
ShesGrace
Written by
ShesGrace
25/F/Tennessee
Oct 3, 2024
Oct 3, 2024 at 8:42 PM UTC
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