My hands are shaking; it's getting harder for me to breathe. This is the moment I've realized that I'm trapped inside a box that I locked myself in and threw away the key. Once you're in the box, it's a battle to get out of. If you do manage to escape, you won't be the same person you once were before getting locked in. You'll have some bruises from trying to climb out and scrapes from the fall that might not heal properly because you're too scared to ask for a helping hand. You've been alone for so long in that box that the darkness has consumed you, and the air you breathe in feels like a fire in your lungs as you fight for bright, fresh, cleaner air to fill your lungs.
Leann-2025
YOU ARE READING
Every rose 🌹 grows differently
Poetryheartbroken depression grief love anxiety. I started writing poetry in 2020 after a rough patch in life so I've decided to share some old and new ones some from my diary I hope you enjoy and feel less alone
