My body pushes breath from my lungs.
It’s a forceful breath of course.
Because I don’t want to breathe.
I don’t want to show any ounce of life.
Because I fear people will notice me.
I rather cringe
and crumble in the corner.
Than to be forced to stand,
and let the world know I am here.
To many people take attendance.
And they expect me to be there.
Although I rather not be.
What’s the point,
when there are already plenty like me.
I’m simply a duplicate.