Sad Poem: Wound in My Chest

Ouch!
The prickling feeling in my fingertips.
I am wringing my hands again.
Shallow breathing,
Aching in my chest.

My knees have been achy.
So callused and bruised from crawling,
Praying,
Pleading
For rest.
No thoughts.

The sight from my bedroom window
Begs me down
And for a minute I can fly
And I am raptured up there with the stars,
The moon.
Nevermind there is no oxygen and
I'd suffocate up there.
I am suffocating in here.

Crack open the windows,
Crack the glass,
Break them open.
I am panicking, hyperventilating.
The shallow breath
Is the most torcherous.
I can deal with the gaping wound in my chest.