Pressure
by Myles Bearden
My head throbs
And in such a way I find it difficult to describe
Behind my eyes and in my throat
The way one feels when drowning
The concern would, or should be
My head is above water
I am still breathing
I realize it to be something distinct
Tragic enough it as is
It registers with me in places
At home
In crowds
In the city
In a classroom
But of course
That pressure will never be recognized
So long as it is in Times New Roman
In size 12 font
It builds
In meticulous ways that fester
Increasing in volume and rising faster than I can process
And it lingers
From the time I wake
To the hour I lie and understand
That pressure will consume my mind
Until I reach my grave
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