if i am someone
then this someone
is composed of so
much air
and i feel myself
slowly
deflating—
outside the prison of my skin
is a world, is a world
declared real
by the ones in the suits,
by the ones with the cold, cold
eyes
i do not believe everyone
who breathes
is alive—
some bodies
are just fleshy
lies
like mine is.
YOU ARE READING
poetry for the poetic: 5
Poesíathis is my fifth poetry book on this profile! please check out my other 4 x thank you for reading ❤️
