Silence makes the room surround,
damp cheeks consistent to wet clouds,
a nightstand and a dim lamp.
Pillow wet your throat is dry,
footsteps louder up the stairs,
finger stretch across your lips.
Hold your breath.
Grasp for silence.
Paced acceleration was way too fast.
Remained flasset, you turned,
apparent is glass stained to ignorance
Now painted across your eyes,
cheeks inflame, tears evolve;
an endless evaporation.
Pin to sheets,
straps forged of surmise,
guilt slides to your throat.
As if your skin pulled tight,
with ghostly hands around your neck,
Feeling responsible, your potential's demise.
They tell you to work,
You shout, "I am!"
Then they compliment your assiduous?
Honesty is the air.
The cold wind filling your chest,
Displaying the desperate bit
to
just breathe.
How can you breathe?
They filled your humidifier with helium.
Your relative bird was raised equivalently.
They told him to fly,
He shouts, "I try!"
How can he fly?
They clipped his wings.
Your feet you've risen to.
You will remain there relentlessly,
Remind yourself never to reflect.
For just a moment of personal honesty,
may be enough,
to be too much.
