The AM Sessions

venting

Sometimes I swear the ache in my bones is from the weight of people's lives I try to carry along a river of happiness.
I am a tight rope pulled by many but never unraveled to see my contents,
to check if I, too, am happy.

The commodity of a fearless thinker but also the uselessness of her.
She thinks she is alive, she feels fully oxygenated, but then quickly feels deprived of air and feels as if a sea of opinion has clouded her judgement.

Venting.
As if one is blowing out cold and chilling air.
But I feel as if my air is putrid and muggy, suffocating the ones around me.
But I am only a vent.

I only try to provide the air you need to breathe; make you comfortable, relax.
But no one seems to notice.