It's like, I'm running up a never ending staircase with boulders tied to my feet. Struggling to make it to the next step in front of my nose. No I'm not wearing shoes, yes, I'm in rags. Maybe I can't make it up the next step, my ankles are hurting. I don't know if I can keep going. I can hear the crowd at the bottom rooting me on, "Oh, she can totally make it! She's done it so many times before!" Well I am now getting tired. The crowd above me, "Hey, look, if you cant do it, go back to the bottom. Don't look like a disgrace barely clinging on to the middle." They tell me to get off, get lost, "You weren't showing any signs of making it anyway. Instead of climbing, you're falling." They say and turn their backs. Maybe I am a disgrace, I'm not as good as them, I guess I'll fall back to the crowd of whence I came. "You've come so far, why stop now?" A speck of determination in my mind says, "You can do it, one foot after another." But the boulders get heavier every step, and the rope on my ankles are giving me a burn. Will my back give out at the strain of my crawling, will my elbows snap from holding me up, are my lungs shrinking at every breath? My knees have cuts and scars and there's smoke in my eyes, but it's not the physical state of mind bringing me down, as painful as it seems. The more and more people expect, and the more and more people condescend my light, the more and more I lose my shard of hope.
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Misc. Files
PoetryShitty shit that people can read when they feel like shit so they can cope with their own shit. :D Hope u like.
