There is too little air…this air that I’m breathing.
My pent up distress. Inside I am seething.
Angry at weakness. Empowered by anger.
Reckless in power. Sensing the danger.
Worn out and weary. Distressed just the same.
For all of my fighting, no answers to claim.
Angry at weakness. Resigned to be still.
Seething in silence…breaking my own will.
Sledge hammer in hand, I break down the walls.
Crying and hurting…watching them fall.
The rooms here are empty. It’s only me here.
Angry at nothing, but at my own fear.
My weakness, my failure, the goals that I set,
I missed. I tried. I drown in regret.
I splash coats of paint. Can’t cover the words.
My reservations and composure fly off like birds.
I sit on the ground, breathing and listening.
I look out the window, the stars…calmly glistening.
It’s sweet now, the air. The air that I’m breathing.
Gone are the walls, the fear and the seething.
I’m only broken by my own expectations.
Unwilling to weaken. Must break reservations.
Empowered by silence, and focus, and air.
Calm, restless spirit, and find your repair.