Stuck Poems

most days i don't 

know what to do 

with the poems 

stuck in my lungs.

or begin to know how 

to set them free. there 

is no air & i've let go 

of the hope that you 

would understand

(it's alright). 

but you see, i've grown

accustomed to 

suffocating while living

(it's called existing)

& it's the one thing i 

know that i do well. 

so this is just a raw 

piece of me

(if you care for this sort of flavor).

something to hold you

over while i take the 

time to become 

something better. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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