deepundergroundpoetry.com

this feeling

i know they say it gets easier.
but this burning,
this ache.
it sprouts behind my rib cage,
fills my lungs and suffocates me.

the feeling you get when you're too far from something.
this saudade for freedom that's stretched itself
around my body and taken me hostage.

suddenly i'm not human.
i am a question mark.
?
i am in a box of stigma attached to,
"so what's in your pants"
and "i'd blow you if you had a dick."

i want to be comfortable.
i want to feel like myself.
and i can't.

and it hurts.
they crawl under my skin.
haunt the empty hallways of my mind.
they don't make pills to shut your brain up,
they make pills to lower their volume.
and what happens when they start to scream louder?

it's so hard.
they say "freedom is free"
"happiness is what you make it"
but my freedom will cost over $15k
and the last little bit of hope i have.

for the longest time,
i saw death as my golden ticket;
my passport to some foreign land
to which would be my escape.

but when all you crave is to not exist,
not even death can give you that.

all that has conscious thoughts cannot be destroyed completely.

our souls must go somewhere.
never to perish because we feel.

everlasting.

there is no escape.

death - is not a void.

a void of awake and empty? possibly.
a void of non-existence? sadly, no..

i have never been afraid of dying,
only what happens after.
and for the longest time,
i have been praying for that special place that does not exist.

and i will long for that place,
even after my vessel has perished.
Written by ocean_wrecked
Published
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