The Weight On My Chest

I have a weight on my chest

Literally about

20lbs worth of heaviness

Sitting on my pecs,

Making my shoulders cave inwards

Making my confidence sit slouched

On the cold hard ground.

I am not a confident person

With this weight pulling me down

I’ve got no plans to become

Some sort of fairy princess

Who flies away

I just want to not be

Weighted down

They say surgery helps but

What if it doesn’t

What if I hate it

What if when the weight is taken

I still feel it’s pressure

Burned into my psyche like a

Brand meant to punish

The weight on my chest does more

Than make me uncomfortable

It tells me I’m hopeless, tells me I’m

Crazy, and tells me

I’ll never be able to get up

From all the weight that crushes me

I don’t want to have surgery

But I don’t want to live my whole life

Being crushed

By a weight on my chest that is connected

To a weight in my brain

That is connected to a

Life spent feeling inadequate and insane.

I would like to be free, I want to be

In less pain in the future

And for some reason

I’m just as worried about the

Fleeting kind as I am

The pain I’ve been branded with

Since the beginning.

Perhaps this is the courage I’ve been needing?

Or perhaps finally the weight has

Started to crush me, now that I see

How much time I’ve wasted

Sitting on the cold hard ground

Cross legged trying to cover my chest

Huddled in a fetal position

Begging for some sort of god to come

And say “I’m sorry, my mistake—

You’ve really been doing your best”