All this pressure, on top of each other,
sometimes i wish i could not be bothered,
to fade away in a small hole,
all i bring with me is my memories and this last bowl,
pushed and pulled by two different ways,
by the feeling of you haunting my every day,
i try to push you to the back,
my seeing you come back up is what i lack,
stabbing my emotions with your voice,
every aspect of you makes my hands clench up and get moist,
fighting to gain ground,
and pulling to not fall,
one day i hope this all on you,
then you will see what it's like,
to stop breathing till your blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
may it rise again Matt..