Lost

It’s not about the darkness that surrounds,

it’s not about those stories that cut the

pieces of my pride.

It’s not about my heavy breathing,

like I’m being chased every

time I close my eyes.

It’s not about my shadow that I can no

longer define, it’s not about the

hell of my insides.

It’s not that I got used to the idea of building

on blank, trying not to feel

empty inside.

It’s not that I try to tear down the wall

between reality and me, but I get

deeper into the void of nothingness, every time.

It’s not about me trying to escape a

nightmare, when I’m not

even asleep.

It’s not about the insecurity that fills me,

that leaves me with the need of

shrinking every edge of me.

It’s not about the threat eating me up

whenever I see the light.

It’s not about every time that I give my all,

how they leave me with nothing to hold

onto to feel more alive.

It’s about me in need of life, but not

being able to breathe.


Rahma Waleed is an 18 year old student preparing to study medicine. She uses writing to express the feelings of those who are unable to do so. You can find her on Instagram here.

 

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