I don't understand
what's going on?
why is it so ugly?!
you romanticised death.
panic, fear; more panic now.
Why's the sunlight getting
farther away?!
sinking, soaring,
twisting, turning,
"stop, please!"
What's this metal you've
barreled into the side of my head?
why does it's coolness
not feel relaxing?!
why do I not breathe, yet live?
"i want out of this."
Each breath becomes further apart,
each breath becomes less than the last.
i want to be kissed by the sun.
yet why does it feel like,
Ages ago was the final time?
why do I feel like a porcelain doll?!
breaking apart, thrown around.
"I'm giving in now!"
But, it doesn't stop.
I'm still drowning.
© Dishashree Swain
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
