they say to apply
pressure to the wound
if you ever get injured.
and so, i take my
rough palms and
i apply pressure
over the left side
of my chest,
right where my heart is
and i apply pressure
to the wound.
but my hands are not
soaked with blood,
my hands are not stained
with a rich red that reminds
me of how human i am —
how fragile and vulnerable.
my hands are covered in pain,
and the pain runs down my arm
and steeps beneath my skin
and infects and poison
my veins until it feels
like all i am is
simply hurt.
and the salty tears that
are cutting into my cheeks
are laced with disappointment
and exhaustion.
but i don't let up.
i continue to apply
pressure to the wound,
it is the only way
i know how to deal with pain.
YOU ARE READING
Silent Chaos
PoetryIt's too quiet. The loudest thing is your heart beating. You can feel your pulse throughout your whole body and it's overwhelming. You're breathing too loud in a place where life does not exist. The silence is invading into your mind, filling it wit...
