I have been here many times before,
the sight of this place is eerily familiar.
I was here before,
yet each moment still freezes my core.
You know how it is
to have your breath knocked out of your chest,
that infinitesimal second
when your lungs desperately cling
to that last gust of air?
I am stuck in that. Always.
As the last molecules escape my lips,
so is my hope for the better.
Because how can you hold on to the promise of change,
when you constantly find yourself
in the same sorry state?