The Death of Life

The heaviness of life is suffocating.

It’s choking me with its high airs,

Denying me breath and life.

Worry is drowning me.

It’s pressing against my lungs,

Forcing out the air,

Stealing my breath.

It’s weighing me down,

Pulling me under,

Grasping at my ankles

And wrenching my heart.

It holds out its hand to help,

Reminding me of those I love,

But shying away at the last second,

Watching my head sink beneath the waves.

Music is choking me.

It’s on fire, and the flames engulf my body.

Tendrils of smoke caress my throat,

Softly, like a lover, then coil more tightly

As I cough and wheeze.

It stands before me, mocking,

Staring as I fall to the floor among the coals.

It laughs like a deep, roaring thing in my ears,

Pouring into my head and into my soul.

 

Madness is strangling me.

It’s wrapping its cold fingers

Around my throat,

Squeezing the life from me.

It’s cold and callous,

Cackling like a deranged person

As the fingers tighten

And leave bruises upon my skin.

Life is suffocating me,

Weighing me down,

Pulling me under,

Stealing my breath,

Grasping my ankles,

Engulfing my body.

Laughing.

Mocking.

Lying.

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