Posted in Poetry

Hostile

I think I’m going to explode.
I’ve got to get out of here, right now.
The environment is claustrophobic. I can’t breathe.
I am so upset I just want to scream.

I’m trapped in this tiny space.
There is so much me and it’s all crammed in.
The anger is going to kill me, boiling over.
I desire to get out of this sarcophagus, this tomb, this shell.

Surrounded by people who don’t care,

who don’t even know how I feel.
I feel everything and I want out, NOW.
They can’t hear me, stuck inside here.
To be a locust and break free, a new me.

I can’t even get these feelings out.
Set them free, forget!
It’s really crowded in here.
I hate crowds.
Let me out!

Nobody knows, no one can hear.
The twilight zone between my ears.

Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Author:

Elsha Hawk is a center-brained, imaginative, pragmatist who errs on the side of optimism. She is a writer, mom, teacher, wife, and go-getter. She has dabbled in ebooks, researched marketing and promotion of herself, joined social media, and written both solo and with a co-author Eddie-Joe Young. She won the short story contest, "Write to Win", in Writer's Journal and was published in the Nov/Dec 2009 issue. She also published a short story in Eclectic Flash in the April 2010 issue.

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