"Pretending I Can Win"

The hollowness makes you so damn fragile.
You have to shake or else…
Or else what?

Never got that far.
 
Like a bad pep talk
where you’re the team, coach, and opponent.
Or at least outside the locker room.
Outside your own mind.

Not crazy, by any stretch.
Just removed. 

What’s the worst possibility?
It’s both pointless and vital.
And it’s overwhelming.
All-consuming.

Your sternum closes on your chest.
That’s what feeds it.
That’s how it grows.

Breathe.

Easy to say, hard to believe.
No end.
Unsure.
Scared. Of nothing.
Which, when something,
is insurmountable.

But it always ENDS… stops?
It hibernates.
It idles.

It waits.

No way out,
trying to keep the hope.
Pretending I can win,
the only way to cope.