It just takes a hole
The size of a needle.
The smallest amount
To enter the bloodstream.
It starts as a warmth,
Spreading through your veins,
Uncomfortably warming your insides.
Uncertainty floods your insides,
Causing your stomach to drop,
Pressure building, making you squirm.
The warmth hits your cheeks,
Your eyes avoid others,
Your arms forcing a social withdrawal.
You're not enough.
You did something wrong.
Somethings wrong with you.
Your brain is flooded with images,
A sharp object inching closer,
Closer towards your intestines.
Those close to you fading into smoke,
The four walls crumbling around you,
Your throat starts to close.
Nothing stops it,
Nothing at all,
Until.
"Everythings okay."
Invisible arms
Curl around you.
Lulling you,
Forcing quiet.
You take a deep breath.
And you believe it.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetryre·al·i·ty rēˈalədē/ noun 1. the world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them. 2. the state or quality of having existence or substance.
