A Hole
i dug myself a hole with no
easy way to escape.
i don't have the shovel down here with me
and i don't know how to get out.
the thing is that there are people
above ground
who know i'm around/alive but don't know that
i'm in a hole.
i want to call out but when i try
(or at least mean to)
the words vibrate up my throat
and by the time they're meant to leave my
lips,
they mask themselves as deep sighs,
or change to the automated response of
"i'm okay"
or go silent.
and i sit here,
in the hole,
and it rains more often than not
and there's mud and things crawling out
and my skin is cold and numb,
and i pluck at myself,
hoping that physical pain reawakens the part
that has died inside of me
and i've become so afraid of disturbing other
people's lives
and i've convinced myself that i deserve
this
and i will let this hole consume me.
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