The noise upstairs is killing me.
I'm trying too focus but it doesn't stop.
I can't do anything about it. I'm stuck here with my door closed, my ears plugged and yet it's unbearable.
Ripping through the waves, cutting every part of my ears. I need to leave. Maybe just for an hour but I do. It won't stop.
It won't leave me alone. The amount of work that needs to be done is insane but I can't concentrate. I can't focus.
I'm losing my mind. I need to breathe that feeling kicks in. I'm losing it. It needs to stop. I scream. Tears fall down my cheek.
Please stop. My head is pounding. The ceiling is shaking. Just stop. I can't go on like this. I'm losing it.
It needs to stop. Please just stop.
The silence is mute.
YOU ARE READING
Wasteland
PoetryThings you'd throw in the garbage. In a wasteland. To rip until death. And that's okay.
