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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #2291133
Not all of us learned to deal with our feelings.
There’s no room left.
All the space in my chest has been filled
with this pressure
this balloon rising up and out
crushing my lungs, stealing
my breath
pushing, pushing, pushing
till it’s in my throat too.
My eyes sympathize but
they’re dry as an old well
nothing left to spill
no vacancy to lend.
The balloon keeps rising.
There’s no room left.
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