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Days.

Just some poem I wrote... yup.
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Days.

There are days I am trapped;
locked in a cage too small
for me to breathe.

Sometimes my hands are chained to its walls
or strapped to my body like a jacket;
I hold my arms to protect myself and my thoughts.

When I walk with a friend, I feel her breath, hearing it
while hearing her small steps;
There are days I want her away, even when she keeps me alive.

When I see a crowd around, my body petrifies;
thoughts of what to say and do prepare themselves
for me to speak them;
just so I could approach someone and get
what I need, and then leave.

I have days where I want to feel
the power of dying;
To be falling from the sky so
I could feel like floating;
To open my skin only to close it;
To drown or have the blood vessels
burst.

There are days when I know the whole world is hell.
There are days when I know I am in hell.
There are days where I want to feel hell;
In my bones, my flesh, my skin,
there are days I want to feel such fire from hell.

And there are days where I can’t stand the pain of hell.
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