In despair I gasp for air but your hands keep me quiet.
An inner riot of self-hate deliberates the (in) jury of my peers emotions that festered inside.
Being like them made my life seem abbreviated. I didn’t feel alive. Much less appreciated.
My choice is to see the negative.
The reality I see. God is inside, but what is inside of me?
I choose to leave my dreams. Deferred.
They seem far-fetched. A murky grip of reality.