Let Me Breathe

I wake, but the weight stays. Heavy, sinking, pressing down— like hands gripping my lungs, like whispers turning into shouts. The walls know my name, they hear it too often, spat like an insult, thrown like a stone. I sleep, but it never heals. Hours melt into each other, dreams blur, yet I wake just as tired. I flinch at footsteps, hold my breath at voices. Every word feels like a verdict, every silence, a storm waiting to break. Life moves, but I don’t. It drags me like a wave I can’t fight, I can’t escape. If only it would stop. If only I could rest without drowning in the quiet. If only I could breathe without waiting for the next hit.