Air slowly seeps in,
as I struggle to find an escape,
from this numbing pressure in my lungs.
Gasping breaths do not relieve this burden on my chest.
Maybe I am born for sorrow.
For this joy causes more pain,
than every trouble that has come before it.
This joy may be the death of me.
Though this pressure is destroying me;
I cannot bear the thought of its absence.
I may try to escape this bliss that destroys me,
I revel in it while it is with me.
This agonizing heaven flows in my veins,
it has become a part of me.
However fleeting it may be,
it is mine for now.
I hold on,
I am strengthened.
If I do not perish,
I will be stronger still.
How can I die?
I am already in heaven,
unbearable as it is.
This throbbing joy,
is my final tomorrow.
Author notes
* Option 3*
- Prompt: hyperventilation
I guess it has a little of option 4 too.
A contest entry
- Because we're not sick of options yet. by Viva La Vie Boheme.
600 points, ended March 25, 2008, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Tell me what you think.
Comments
-
Wow. I read further into this than perhaps I realistically should, but this has a lot of meaning to me. Kinda reminds me of a guilty pleasure. But wow. This is a deep poem, I like what you did with it, it is a bit of both. Awesome
-
-
thanks!
glad you liked it!
-
Adding your comment:
