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Literature Text
When sleep becomes that gnawing voice,
slithering like a snake across your mind.
When every mistake becomes a slight
and every word a question filled with fear.
You can't look her in the eyes because
you're afraid of what she'll see.
Every stutter is a language to itself,
trying to speak up before your heart chokes.
Every glance, a weapon
in a war you already lost.
Every moment asks the question,
"How long will you hold on?"
slithering like a snake across your mind.
When every mistake becomes a slight
and every word a question filled with fear.
You can't look her in the eyes because
you're afraid of what she'll see.
Every stutter is a language to itself,
trying to speak up before your heart chokes.
Every glance, a weapon
in a war you already lost.
Every moment asks the question,
"How long will you hold on?"
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This is something of a little of how I've felt recently. I still feel like a piece is missing but I don't know what it is yet.
Comments4
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More familiar than I'd like. Be well.