Life Itself

Bubble wrap your memories And seal them in boxes. Then on each lonely, sad day, Unpack one box at a time. Watch those mistakes set against all the happiness Those regrets against those wins. Laugh, cry, belive and heal Slowly losing one day to nostalgia.  And then close the box and store it for another gloomy day.

Take a needle and run it through your every vein. Hold a pointed nail against a blackboard and hear the sound it makes. Fill your room with no water and feel every breath slip outside. Run the fastest you have and then watch the snake still in sight. Remove the broken pieces of glass and sense your legs paralyzed. Fall from that building and hit the hardest ground as you collide. Stand still in the darkest room and feel a hand touch your back. Imagine the worst smell, the shrekiest sound, the harshest light, the worst death. Let go. Move on.