Clawing
Can you imagine clawing out of your grave just so you can breathe?
Well, why would anyone imagine that scenario?
Some people self-inflict to feel something, while others pierce their skin to not feel.
Imagine being buried alive while trying to escape the coffin you voluntarily put yourself in. Picture your fingers clawing the cherrywood above you as panic ascends from the depth of your soul, causing bile to race up your throat while incinerating your lungs on impact. You can’t breathe because you’ve allowed for this to happen, even though you knew of the consequences. So, you claw vigorously as your fingers bleed and a splinter from the cheap wood slices your nerve endings. You just don’t care about that type of pain. Because this pain doesn’t compare to the pain, you’re trying to escape from within.
As I said before; some people exact pain upon themselves for their own reasons. However, have you ever tried clawing at your chest to get to the one thing that’s causing you this unbearable agony? Well, I didn’t work hard enough.
My heart has a solid case around it. Nestling my worn-out heart, keeping things in rather than out. Unfortunately, feelings seeped through the cracks of the cage, and well here I am. Trying to desperately rip through the flesh to get to the one organ that can render me helpless. As the cage around my heart began to shrink, closing in tighter, breathing wasn’t much of a concern. The pain of surrendering to the feeling of passion. The type of intensity where your blood boils, and your bones ache under your skin.
**The picture is of my clawed chest