There's a lot happening in life
I'm usually really good under pressure
there's been so many Things in such a small amount of time
everyone keeps saying they are proud or they know I have got this or I will get through it, at best.
Or they don't notice the pressure that keeps piling up and making it exceedingly laborous for my lungs to take in air,
and they congratulate me,
tell me I'm everything they look up to, t
hat I'm wonderful and capable.
they don't ask at all about how
I'm handling it before they
tell me I'm doing so well.
I'm tired I'm tired I'm tired
every piece of praise for
things I keep slapping together
in a state of detachment
is another pile of dirt,
shoveled gleefully
into a grave that I lay in
still breathing
and I'm watching the dirt fall on top of a glass coffin
and nobody knows it's my body they're burying-
in their eyes, to their ears
I am standing six feet above,
With everyone else
In their ears,
To their eyes
I take the shovel next
I'm the only one who can hear me screaming
I'm the only one who can hear me screaming
