Poetry

Too Much (#1609)

A breath. Is that so hard?
Never a chance to lower my guard,
It all seems a constant fight,
No room to breathe, almost airtight,
I push against my confines,
But of headway, I see no signs,
Closed in till I almost choke,
I need to break free of this yoke,
I can’t keep this frantic pace,
Doesn’t it show on my face?
I need a break from all this mess,
This is far too much stress!

Any Thoughts?

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