it presses my shoulder blades,
ties my neck muscles into knots,
then settles deep within my chest.
the pain is the first sign
that my body is haunted.
it then puts my thoughts
on a hamster wheel.
they run in circles
without an escape.
this is the second sign.
but my heart takes control.
it voices my thoughts
so they can be seen and heard.
it stops spinning the wheel,
slowly comes out of my chest,
unties the knots in my neck
and lets go of my shoulder blades,
and my body does not feel its weight.

my soul is a chamber
in which a candle sits.
a strong flame burned,
which kept me alive.

however, week after week,
the water filled the chamber,
putting the flame out,
leaving me cold and lifeless.

the water would dry,
and the chamber was empty,
except for a single ember
that glowed in the dark.

I lit matches every day
until I saw a spark.
now it fiercely blazes,
stronger than it's ever been.

I walk along a trapeze,
palms sweaty, legs shaking,
refusing to fall either way.
to go left is to fall into a fire
for a life which burns my bones.
the people will smile upon me,
oblivious to the ash surrounding them.
to go right is to fall into soft trees.
the leaves caress my skin,
but the people vanish like smoke,
and I fall to the ground.
the exact middle is survival
until I reach the other side.

as I'm living in my peaceful world,
an unfamiliar person enters.
he looks small from where I am.
"it looks like he's glaring at me."
"he seems like a bad person."
"I'm way better than him."
the thoughts hit the ground
as solid, heavy bricks,
and my heart pounds in response.
more bricks form a disjointed wall.
I step on the bricks as I climb.
I peek at him over the top
as he approaches the wall.
I notice his soft, kind eyes,
and his soul warms me up.
I slowly descend the wall. 
the bricks start to fall,
landing right behind us.
my heart stops pounding,
and it gently whispers,
"those bricks never fit together."
I give him a tender hug,
and I let him into my heart.

a memory wrapped its cold, rough hands
around my throat, squeezing it tightly.
as I tried to walk away, the memory
stuck its foot out, blocking my path.
I could only muster a pitiful squeak
as I fell face first onto the ground,
and the memory fell on top of me,
effectively holding my body hostage.
its hands were still on my throat,
but it was invisible to everyone else.
they only saw me fall to the ground.
they asked me what was wrong,
but I did not have air that could
breathe life into the powerful words
that were begging to leave my mind.
a sheet of paper suddenly appeared
underneath my right palm,
and a pencil rolled my way.
I gripped the sturdy pencil with
every ounce of strength I still had,
steadying the paper with my wrist,
and I wrote the words I couldn't say
so they would stop begging to leave,
even as the memory gripped my throat.
as I kept writing, I noticed the memory
stopped feeling as heavy on my body.
it was getting ****** into the paper.
it resisted at first, but after a while,
the memory slowly let go of me
and relaxed into the pencil marks.
when I had no more words left,
I picked myself up off the ground,
placed the pencil above my ear,
took the paper, hugged it to my chest,
and walked away with a smile on my face.

a little simile here,
a splash of metaphor there,
all carefully folded and mixed
to form a delicious souffle.

it goes into the oven
at the perfect temperature.
the souffle begins to rise,
the sweet aroma engulfs the room.

but the timer chimes early.
they take the souffle out,
and it sinks within itself,
forming a deep, large canyon.

but this souffle is different.
they put it back in the oven.
it bakes longer and longer
until it finally rises again.

fear is a tiny seed
planted in my lower belly.
my thoughts fuel the seed
to sprout with gentle ease.
its roots are finally free,
wrapping around my feet,
never letting me flee.
it grows into a nimble tree
whose branches strangle me.
the tree wears prickly leaves
that sting my aching body
until my eyes succumb to sleep.