Pressure

A Poem by taanya

Just an exerpt of writing - not particularly in the form of a poem nor a story

Pressure

A silent monster, curled up inside you,
waiting to attack. Nibbling at your brain, scratching, picking at everything you do. It suffocates your lungs and wraps tightly around your heart and grows bigger and stronger and tighter. The voices become louder and dance around like the devil - ignoring them is impossible. “You’re not good enough” they sing, almost melodically. Almost.
Your body numbs and no one understands why. The only pride you feel is the lions pouncing on you. They beat you down - cut you and bruise you and wound you - until you can’t breathe. You crawl towards the finish line, being the last one left in the race. But you never get there.
You know you’re worthless, though some try to convince you otherwise. You put on a brave face, let them think you will conquer the world. But the mask is peeling. The facade is shattering. They know you are under pressure.