–
They whisper ‘run’,
But my lungs are filled with soil
From the grave I dig myself.
They tell me ‘breathe’,
Yet my feet find no purchase
In the lies that I have lain.
They snicker ‘who?’
As ever, I am nobody.
A soulless paucity of hope.
They leave, as do all.
Me. Alone.
Underneath My Skin 