Half Moon Circles

My chest pinches

in an uncomfortable way

the air will not flow right

slowly seeping out

and leaving me breathless

 

Tears begin to collect, 

from the pain, 

the pressure,

that is bubbling in my chest.

 

I can't cry.

Must not let them see me cry.

Must not let them see me cry. 

Distract.

Distract. 

 

I need another pain.

One that will make 

theses thoughts go away.

 

I grab my hand and silently 

fold them in my lap.

 

No one can see-

under my desk.

The nails digging

into my flesh.

The gasping noise,

the bubble of panic 

that was about to burst 

stays within.

 

The pain feels nice. 

Different from the tightness

that was in my chest.

I look down and see

bloody half moon circles

all over my hand.

They remind me all day- 

of what I am. 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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