It feels so strange like a heavy bubble that can neither pop or dissolve,
And it sticks in my throat with an ache that follows all the way down to my chest,
I can breathe but the ache brings the air in small rasps of air,
My tears are full of sorrow and longing and loss,
And the pressure lifts and my little world deflates ready for the next day,
I feel it and they aren't always mine to feel,
I see it on every face I walk passed and I know it all too well,
What business do I have feeling what they feel and tasting the auras they carry with them,
They all have their stories bigger and brighter or sad and dull,
I am just one story with a rocky beginning - a confusing and lonely road that's the middle,
And a feared end,
But every day and each day - one at a time,
I'll carry on and all the while life carries on,
And it continues again - all bottled up.
