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”