When I think about my emotions I think about a room with a constantly running sink
The more the room fills the harder and harder it gets to contain all the water
I try to open the tightly sealed door but it refuses to open
so I just take a seat in a chair
In all my sorrows and despair
And as the room fills I feel the need for air
but there was nothing I could do but sit in my chair... and drown
why even try
if I know I’m going to die
I don’t want to die? At least I don’t think?
So why do I continue to sit in my chair instead of getting up and turning off the sink?
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I wrote this poem in in a 6 min time period. ( It was for a writing exercise that I did in poetry club)