Because of your limited vision, I cannot carry myself;
what little I know of me as it is. Though I want to leave this house my body is
pinned here, trying to stretch out of this chosen, helpless invisibility. It’s what
I believe I deserve. I cannot breathe because of it. And you do not see or hear
it: the sound of the world bleeding into this mess of us; the sight of the
universe caving into this frail, inadequate light. If you did, I could finally
speak the truth, and say goodbye. But as it is, I only crawl in the dark and
mutter words that don’t matter. Soon, I will need to swallow this fear like a vitamin,
pull my legs onto the floor of this space and leave it. And what will I say
then, bleeding and powerful?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment