Life Kills Us All in the End


It’s moments like these that my
body is too small for my soul, my
chest too small for my heart, my
skull too small for my mind.

There’s too much air in my lungs and
I’m drowning in it.
My heart’s rhythm is too measured and
I can feel myself being slowly crushed by the
monotony.

My feet long to stumble, my
muscles long to ache, my
fingers long to bleed.
My soul needs to live.

I need a struggle,
a challenge,
a test,
anything to
relieve me of this endless repetition, and
save me from this
never-ending pursuit of
survival.

/I think life is killing me./

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