These feelings are shackles: too tight and making me wince.
To others, these shackles look outwardly appealing because I know how to put on a brave face.
These emotions are crippling, but they don't and they won't see that side of me.
They can't understand why I am short of breath having not moved, but they don't know; each day I live is like running 5 miles.
Five miles without legs in what I always convince myself is the last leg of this race called life.
I am under pressure and choking on air that others somehow breath without any inhibition.
It's always begun by little things, little things about which I know they will say, "this too shall pass."
If only they knew these little things weigh oh so heavily.
But I guess maybe you just don't know until it happens to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem