Poem #224

You sit in silence on the terrace sipping your coffee.
You try to convince yourself that fresh air will
stop this feeling of suffocation.
Haven’t you realized by now it’s all in your head?

6 replies on “Poem #224”

I was never suffocating. Stale air: yes; suffocation: no.

What fresh air? The planet’s O2 levels are kinda low.

The last sentence is a trite meaningless statement regurgitated by the population for who knows what reason (only sociologists and etymologists perhaps?).

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