The Pit Of My Stomach - Poem by Richard Steinmueller
The pit of my stomach is filled with an ocean under a storm,
Waves crashing the walls and overturning inside me.
I want to rip skin.
Tear out my insides if it means,
It’ll make room again for my necessities.
Forget about all these anxieties
I’ve had enough of the third spinning wheel,
I can’t go on not being the one,
For once let it be.
For once I need some space to breathe.
A breath of fresh air.
Ten seconds just isn’t enough.
Whether deep or shallow,
They fall short when it’s over.
I find myself paddling in the pit of my stomach.
All this darkness turns to red I think I’ve finally found,
The courage to slice open all that is surrounding me.
Cutting holes in the walls,
The air begins to pressurize.
I’m stuck in the red undertow.
Will there ever be a way to escape this?
Now lost yet no longer confined,
I am drowning in my own blood.
Nowhere to be found.
I don’t know where I am.
Back to where I started,
Out in the open for everyone to see.
Comments about The Pit Of My Stomach by Richard Steinmueller
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye