3 Deaths & Sickness

By Shaire Blythe 

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

3 Deaths & Sickness

Hands on my chest, the air escapes my lungs

Constricted throat, hollow breathing

I can't even begin to think, the process becomes unbearable and I choke

I choke in the tears I cry, the silent gasps to constrict my terror, my hate, my agony

It doesn't make sense to me

Why my family, why me?

I'm only 21, feeling like I've already touched 40

And I don't know what to do anymore

I've been fighting these battles since elementary and I'm all dried up

I'm tired

God, I'm tired

I'm tired of having first seats to the pain

I'm tired of being the only one there

I'm tired of laying my heart out, and getting it stepped on

And getting it stepped on

And getting it stepped on

Damn it, what am I supposed to do?

God, God what am I supposed to do?

I've been taught that everything has its purpose, it's reason

I can't lie, I don't see it

It's like you molded me to be strong, but it's getting late in the race and I'm becoming so weak

I, I just want to grasp peace

I want to feel it, I want to see it

Cause I've got nothing

I've got nothing.