I suffocate in the heat of my pitch black room.
I cannot find the door.
And cut my feet on the broken glass strewn
All over the floor.
But I am not blind.
I stare endlessly at the memories
Boiling behind my eyes.
And though they make me bleed
Sitting amongst them grants me
Greater peace.
Than I would find
If I stumbled through the door
Escaped the memories strewn
All over the floor.
Only to scream āWhy?ā
Upon discovering that all of life
Is not just any kind of room
But an engine room
That turns seconds into suffering
One tick tock at a time.
****
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