Pit


Cold stones in the stomach
Mouth locked closed
A welling in the chest
That builds like a wave

Every breath; beating drums
Until there is no room
Except for the pain
And pressure of singularity

With jumbled thoughts
Feelings of longing
Insecurities the epicenter
The endgame seems predestined

Tears stream down my cheeks
And in plummeting reveal
Gravity as a truth
Intensifying the weight of the stones

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