Salvation of Poetry

Footsteps floating on air, barely moving. Exasperated energy of empty lungs trying to fill with each gasp. The eyes blinded by darkness yet a far light seen on approach. Impossible movements with suffocation. Breaking free of this stagnate life seems like an endless struggle with repeated thought of thinking, that old feeling of being trapped and claustrophobic. My own demons with heavy shackles as well as others restraining me with their own ball and chain, I sink further and further away. Away from the light to sit in darkness, this empty darkness of fear and despair that place that becomes painful but comfortable, I bury my talents deeper so nobody including I can find them, it may one day become my buried treasure. My words to me like rare expensive jewels or million-year-old gold Because I am the most happiest when I write and read my words of a soul un-sold.