Lead.

This poem reflects a bad relationship:

Dear whoever cares,

My heart hurts.

My stomach hurts

My chest hurts.

It's my entire body actually.

I feel like I forgot how to breathe.

This isn't right.

This isn't wrong.

It isn't just a bump

It's a huge hill that I seem too tired to get over.

I try to run,

but fall and smack my head in the slippery grass.

I try to walk,

but seem to stay in the same spot,

I try to sit and relax,

but  tumble back to the bottom.

I cant get there, and I'm out of ideas.

I hear the whispers from the wind that the hill is giving up on me.

My time is up.

But I'm too obsessed with getting over the hill when it doesn't want me.

At one moment the hill will be good to me.

It will be dry, and I'll get farther then I did before,

then in a split second,

I'll move the wrong way,

stop trying for a moment,

and the hill will become wet and slimy,

and I'll slide back down.

I cant get a hold of it.

I cant be tired anymore;

I need to get over this hill

And don't mean to the other side.

I mean I'm giving up.

 I'm letting the hill sit and wait till it's ready to let me over,

I won't climb it,

I won't sit on it,

walk on it,

touch it.

I'll give the hill the wind,

And I'll let the hill come to me.

Lead me over,

Lead me to happiness.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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