sometimes
i can't breathe.
air filled with holes that
suck me in
spit meout.
sometimes
i can't speak.
people too eager to
twist mearound
lose my meaning.
sometimes
i can't live.
world readyto pounce at
the slightest sound
of nothing moving.
today
itried again.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

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