deepundergroundpoetry.com
Have
I’m tired of wanting more.
I can breathe the air around me,
It can fill my lungs.
I can bring my hand to my face,
And feel the skin there.
I can dig my nails in,
I can wince at the pain.
More,
It’s subjective.
I have so much,
And to some,
So little.
I can breathe the air around me,
Millions have not the same privilege.
I am living.
ALIVE.
I can scream,
And people listen.
I can breathe the air around me,
It can fill my lungs.
I can bring my hand to my face,
And feel the skin there.
I can dig my nails in,
I can wince at the pain.
More,
It’s subjective.
I have so much,
And to some,
So little.
I can breathe the air around me,
Millions have not the same privilege.
I am living.
ALIVE.
I can scream,
And people listen.
Published 5th Jul 2024
Author's Note
My suffering is not in vain, it is enjoyed by the people who watch as I turn the pain to poetry. I am oddly happy today, to be breathing. To be alive.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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5th Jul 2024 5:23am
5th Jul 2024 5:33am
5th Jul 2024 11:28am
