IT DOES NOT FEEL RIGHT

It is harrowing to imagine how the brightest people in the room

Can carry such burdens within.

Those invisible shackles that go unnoticed, a vacuum

For the eventual downfall and the darkness that will win.

Self-pity reassures my brain that this is a dead-end

In my inability to stop the past from resurfacing.

Near-extinguished flames flicker as their smoke trails blend

Papers engulfed by minuscule ponds leave my ink-stained hands aching.

I have been excruciatingly forlorn for so long, 

That now sadness beckons me over, and I contentedly follow along.

The constriction of severed oxygen I no longer resist,

For that gives my strained body a reason to persist.

The dilemma of becoming a shell whose spirit did not bloom before it died,

Or letting you go before you poison the scintillating waterfall.

I could set everything aside and finally succumb, but I always hit a wall.

You are so empty on the inside.