Tear

A part of me is holding back tears
as though these have found a
permanent home in me.
My hands clench in a fist so those
tears have a shrinking companion
when my body stands stubborn as hell.
What has gotten into me that every
breath I heave feels like it’s dissipating
from under a large boulder placed
on top of my lungs?

My toes have a funny way of pulling
itself in and out before it places it’s
foundation on a doormat of my heart;
that has been wet for so long and no
one had cared enough to dry it for me,
not even I, myself.
Probably, the tears I hold back has an
empty sense to rhythm with a clear sky
turning it into thunderous monster rain.

Does my sanity keeps touching the ground
to know if I’m still present in this world?
Or is it another episode of deja-vu
where my insanity reminds me of a barren
mind I possess?

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