the sound of my bag is loud as i place it on the floor
the chair legs scream as i drag it out from under the table
if you would only look at me, you would see how tired i am
but life isn't about me
it never has been
forever the footnote of someone else's story
fading into the background
a half written story
an unspectacular character
i sit on the chair, its cold and you dont even look at me before handing me another box of stress
i work so hard for things you take for granted
so hard to make things happen
somehow you havent figure out that everything we have isnt just by chance or from luck
my ears ring loudly
my skin is hot underneath the anger that burns like the pressure of a tidal wave on my lifeless soul
im struggling to breath and you cant see it
im fighting for breath and you dont hear it
just silence
silence and the sound of my soul dying.
the sound you sing to
the soundtrack of our lives
you dance to the eb and flow if this soundtrack of horror
breathing in and floating on every note
the beauty of it, the melody captivates you
the sound you wish would never end
its your favorite song
the peace, the panic
the sound of my slowly dying
