Pillar

I feel stuck.

Something in between frozen and rotten,

like I am sealed inside a coffin

I keep trying to claw my way out of

with bleeding hands, but it holds me down,

Quiet in the never-ending darkness.

I give and grind,

and still the world spits me back out—

years sliding past

like ghosts sucking the soul and energy

a desperate reach to touch something real

And I understand them because it is me

I am still no closer to becoming anything

other than the faded image I had in my mind.

How many failures does it take

before the universe admits

it never planned on letting me win?

I’m so tired of climbing walls that crumble under me,

of trying to breathe when every breath tastes like dust and burnt-out hope.

I want the darkness gone—

I want my joy back—

but it’s feeding on me, sinking its teeth in,

because it enjoys the struggle.

They say happiness is a choice

but that’s a lie told by people who’ve never had darkness coil around their spine

and whisper:

You were never meant to rise.

A callous reminder that I’m stuck in place

while everyone else learns to fly.

Maybe my time isn’t coming.

Maybe it’s decaying, collapsing, slipping through my fingers.

Maybe I wasn’t built to bloom—

maybe I was forged to be the stone beneath others’ feet, a pillar meant to hold everyone else up

while I crack,

and crack,

and crack.

Until there’s nothing left to break.