It’s a feeling,
Not quite quite pain
But a dull ache right from the middle of your chest,
As if you’re crying and screaming
eagerly waiting to be heard.
It’s a force,
More like a favour to gravity,
Where instead of falling,
You just lie and down and beg the earth to swallow you up.
It’s a horrible thought,
That makes you hold your breath,
When you already can’t breath.
It’s a sudden throb,
The one where you feel it in your throat
Just a heavy lump sitting there
Holding back a bucket full of tears.
It’s a potential power,
That’s locked inside your head,
Much similar to a hidden treasure under your bed,
Painfully screaming to be heard
So that you are no more a trapped bird.
But it’s something you cannot,
Must not,
Let out.
It’s a rapid sting,
when you know you’re alone,
But they tell you you’re not alone.
It’s a feeling that slowly fades
But never finds the aid.
It’s a powerful strength,
that forces you to reach out,
But instead, you just end up exploring a hidden round-about.
It’s a miserable ache,
Where you feel like you’re floating in an ocean of sadness,
Because being happy seems just out of reach.
It’s a feeling that eventually becomes a story,
But never achieves the glory.
It’s a deep loss
When you realise that the person who meant the most,
Is nothing but a memory ghost.
It’s a feeling,
Not quite pain,
But a deep old feeling.
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