I can’t bear the weight,
nothing to be proud of,
my chest, a stone,
stabbing at night,
panic grips,
thoughts of relief,
not death,
but a quiet escape.
I swallow words,
the wrong ones linger,
a constant burden,
doubt drapes my heart,
trust slips through fingers,
in shadows I dwell,
a ghost in my own skin.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 12:19 PM UTC
I can’t bear the weight,
nothing to be proud of,
my chest, a stone,
stabbing at night,
panic grips,
thoughts of relief,
not death,
but a quiet escape.
I swallow words,
the wrong ones linger,
a constant burden,
doubt drapes my heart,
trust slips through fingers,
in shadows I dwell,
a ghost in my own skin.
