The Addiction

Existence does not satisfy my desiring need,
To be more than just wasted matter left unseen.
I refuse to be defined by imprisoning numbers,
For I am more than a class rank or what the scale discovers.
Aspirations to set my weightless soul free,
Was something they told me could never foolishly be.
The truths are exclaimed in each spoken word,
Yet not a single sound was to ever be heard.

If there’s one thing I could not live without,

It would be the freedom to share ideas I’m thinking about.

They say people are addicted to what takes away the pain,

What I lay hidden,

Bruises far more achingly than a simple sprain,

There's nothing more agonizingly appeasing,

Than a refreshing glass of bottled up feelings.

So I hold anger in my heart and fear in my lungs.

But when all's said and done and final songs have been sung,

I don't know what's worse,

Letting the lethal breaths of silence ooze down my throat,

Or slowly deteriorating from pretending nothing hurts.