Is Your Last Step Your First Step in Life?
Shackled and chained, confined by body. A wave of lead presses on my chest cavity. Air escapes my lungs - replaced with frustration. I’m tethered to my bones, my skin. Oh mighty atoms hold me together and tear me apart. I’m a voyeur, looking at the lives of others - another wave. When will be my time to shine? Do I have one? A shout is pulled through my throat, and thrown into the void. Nobody hears, but everybody watches. I crumble into perfect primary pieces. Glued together by some mysterious force, I’m stuck. I dream bigger than I believe I’m capable. Twisting and turning in this fever dream; spinning to remain lucid. This body is mine. I remain a passenger in the vessel. A mission where writing should be the road to catharsis, now only inflicting more pain; I wait. My opus shall come to me, I don’t know when. I’m no prophet, but I only can make this dream come true.