BURN (Wattys2015?)

my fingers are slipping but i have to keep holding on

my heart is pounding inside my chest

it's beating against my rib cage

cage what a fitting word

i want to carve my heart out of my chest

and throw it to the ground

let the grit and gravel grind at it

let the redness turn brown and black with mud and dirt

a reflection of the inside, a reflection of my own self

i'm tired and i don't know how long i can hold on

but i just have to hold on, just for a little bit more

i'm counting down the days

and i'm scared of what's next

because the slightest gust of wind

could blow me down

the slightest pressure

could weaken my grip

and then who knows what happens

when i stop holding on