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 |    13.1k views, 2xBest Poetry Period. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind. |
| I don’t know if this speaks what I mean… This is what it’s like to be at the bottom of a jar. You can manage to climb topside but you’ll never get the lid off. Potential as a positive possession that cannot escape from its realm, or actually exceed. Did I climb in? Yes. Did I know what I was getting into? No. It looked cozy inside the glass house. Growing paranoia? No. Because it makes you too numb to do anything about it, or care. I fear I’ll strike a sharp instrument one day that will free me from this gas. Then what will you do? Try not to cut myself on the shards. I likely won’t escape, but wait for another jar? Why? What else is there? My mind is too drained to conceive. The gas inside my glass is thick. In evaporation, I get glimpses. It’s too strange to think what might have been. Shelved. …but I’m trapped. 10.30.22 Thanks to all the people who’ve said ‘wait right there’ and never returned. I either don’t approach anymore, or walk away once I lose sight of them. |
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