Sometimes, it's hard to breathe.
To fill my lungs with air
and let it back out again.
To want to stop
but be overcome by an instinct
I no longer want.
To wish I was strong enough
to win against my own body.
To get so close to that soft darkness
and be pulled back into the sharp light.
To know how it feels
To brush fingers with that peace
and be ripped into the constant noise that is my own breathing.
To know that eventually
it will stop.
But to wish it would just come sooner.
YOU ARE READING
Pen To Paper
PoetryJust random things I've written that I wanted to share with people. :)
