A bubble, unyielding, impermeable
Love or loathing
Passion or pain
They swirl and have no outlet.
So many emotions suffocate
This delicate plant
Fumes of poison
Wilt its hopeful buds.
Such pressure it cannot withstand
How will it survive?
Must it learn to convert
The poison to oxygen?
This flexible bubble
Makes resistance vain.
The fight in me ebbs
And exhaustion takes hold.
I want to surrender
To this ever present
imminent death.
For if it is absent,
it is only in respite.
Who will hold me back?
Who is there that can pop
This pain filled prison?
So many people all around
Is it ignorance, carelessness?
Why does my suffocation
And my pleas go unnoticed?
Or maybe it's helplessness
And there is no rescue.
For I make my own poison;
I make my own atmosphere.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
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