Air from the breathing of
The ones who do not love you
And their empty words fill
A bubble,
Which
Grows and
Is nurtured
The way you always wish you
Could have been.
And the bubble bursts,
Splattering the room with blood.
The release,
This eviction of stale air, is cathartic
Addicting
And so the bubble will be reborn
And reburst
Until there is no space on the
Walls for anything but the blood
Until there is nothing left at all
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
