poetry for the poetic: 5

LXV

and what are you supposed to do with all of that heaviness that's resting on your chest? what are you supposed to do when the person you love is the one draining you of all your blood? you can't walk away, your bones simply won't allow you to. i was already three feet into the coffin, the shovel was right beside me, i was getting ready to bury myself so deep no one could find me, i was ready to place my hands over my chest and take my last breath. what are you supposed to do when your body is lifeless, a walking shell of the person you once used to be? do you know how it feels to cough up gun powder in the middle of class only to excuse yourself so you can be a bomb somewhere else? its destructive. you don't want to hurt anyone but here you are, making everyone else suffer right along with you. everything becomes destructive and threatening and you lose yourself. you lose everything that makes you feel like a human being, you start to doubt that you're even alive. i used to catch myself sitting in silence, counting my heartbeats. is this really right? am i really alive? sometimes i wonder how my heart can still be heard from inside of the coffin, it's morbid. sometimes i think my hearts been massacred, maybe my soul has been torn apart and scattered across the entire universe. sometimes i think i see my heart bleeding across the sky, i see my tears as the raindrops, i understand why it's been storming so much lately.