Law

it’s the accumulation of cobwebs

swept out from under the rug

making you cough

so your throat constricts.

the pile of feelings

you shoved in the closet

and never went through

collapsing in your face.

it’s a mess.

your world was a precariously stacked pile of books

waiting to

topple.

it took a mere breath

to blow your poorly sewn facade

now it’s shredded in pieces on your lap.

you probably missed a few stitches.

the wounds have been festering

eating away at your insides

colonies of parasites

feasting on your flesh.

you look in the mirror

and there is no reflection

because you are almost

gone.

it’s the law of gravity.

everything needs to fall.