Back to the ground.
Rich soil surrounding feet.
Head buried in reality.
A weight suffocating.
A chest caving in
as the earth pulls down lower
sinking into soft dirt
the soil clouds over.
Just a small pocket of replenished air
left for you to survive.
But the crushing feeling
just won't subside.
You can barely breathe
as the thoughts come rushing in.
Everything that ever happened in your life
you start second guessing.
The insults come back.
All the countless bad things you think
about yourself,
only makes you sink
further.
It whirls and it spins, the air and and your emotions
and the oxygen is just too thick to breathe.
But you're stuck,
in this soft bed under earth
for hours, days, weeks,
years.
And all you can do is try your best to not pass out.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
