Its Pressure Poem by Julianna Marie Claire

The pressure of a boulder crushes bone-
My ribs into my lungs. I am the drone
That walks, aimlessly, into the flame
Of my destruction. It is where I came
From. This pit of midnight has no escape.
I am caught. Hidden behind a cape
Of insecurities. Of fear that grows stronger
And a sadness that grows longer
With every breath I take. What I am
Cannot be defined. I am not a lamb
Led to the slaughter. So I do not follow
Trend. Do I now lose a tomorrow
Where there was hope for those like me? Do I
Now wave goodbye to a future? Life passes me by
As I sink into the ground. The pressure is there
So I cannot move. And you will all stare
while I lay like a corpse. Life will be rough
to all but only I falter. Never enough.
Never the same. Call me a hag or elf
Or witch. I am lost to all, even myself.
The chastisement comes with the words. They hit
Like stones, every sentence and fragment. Each bit
Reaches the same spot. Into my cape it seeps.
Insecurities grow. Rejection. Anger. It creeps
Beneath the skin and soaks the soul
And tears you apart so you will never be whole.
So you will follow the lambs and a knife will claim you. It is the life
We live. We call It our own,
This slaughterhouse of man that we make. It has grown
Beyond intangibility. It is real and we live
It. Of all gifts man may give
His neighbor, It is this cape and
The pressure that pins me down to this land
So I cannot move. It touches every muscle and limb
Of your body. I am Its victim.