Breathing but Dead

I am dying inside,

I am trapped in my mind.

I am in chains but I'm free.

I run to my fantasy.

I'm a slave to reality.

I'm a bird with no wing,

a seed waiting for spring.

We run to the dreams in our head.

We are all breathing but dead.

We are riding on high.

That's the way ride or die.

We all yell with no sound.

We are lost yet we are found.

I'm a bird with no wing,

a seed waiting for spring.

We run to the dreams in our head.

We are all breathing but dead.

We are born to die from the start.

You escape to your mind.

You're a slave to your heart.

I'm a bird with no wing,

a seed waiting for spring.

We run to the dreams in our head.

We are all breathing but dead. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741