It's at my collar bone,
crushing my lungs,
making it harder to breathe.
Fighting it doesn't work,
you'll sink deeper.
You'll drown.
They're all just watching you drown because you're not reaching out your hand and the sand is slowly creeping its way up your body - to your head.
The mind.
I'm sinking and I'm not sure I care.
My bleeding palms resemble my heavy heart and swollen eyes, my hands ache from holding on to the rope.
Rope that cuts so deep into my skin - I'm unsure if the wound will ever heal.
I'm trying to pull myself out but the more I fight more the more I sink.
The more I cry, the more I hurt.
It's exhausting.
So why don't I just sink?
YOU ARE READING
Pink Blunts - Poetry
PoetryPink Blunts is a collection of my minds ideas. Let's say I'm trying to make sense of my brains none sense! Whether high or sober, our hearts and minds never stop wanting... wanting more in life, more love, hatred, lust and other things. We're all...
