Heavy.

What do you do when the atmosphere’s heavy?

When the air suddenly becomes thin?

When the breath in your lungs grows lukewarm?

When your essence is screaming “give in” ?

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What do you do when it’s not night or day,

When the seasons all muddle in one?

What do you do when there’s nothing to say,

When the moon is as dull as the sun?

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This person inside me is shouting,

She begs me to rise, do something!

She blames me for the chains that bind me,

The enemy that she can’t see.

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I think I’m in love with this dullness.

I think I’ve fallen for thin air.

I’m madly obsessed with giving in.

I dwell in heavy atmosphere.

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For here, I don’t have a tomorrow.

The seasons and days can all blend

In one silent feeling-less symphony

Which welcomes me to the deep end.

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What do you do when the atmosphere’s heavy?

I can’t say I wish that I knew.

I never know how the real life returns,

Because I always beg it not to.

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A note from the author:

if you relate to this... idk get some help