It's like time has slowed down,
Maybe the walls are closing in,
Shutting her breath down,
But there's a weird affinity to it.

Her chest feels heavy,
There's a lump in her throat,
She feels full,
Like a baloon,
Vulnerable,
A pin prick is all she needs,
And yet, where are the tears?

She keeps blaming,
Blaming everyone,
For failing her,
When perhaps it's her,
She, who failed everyone,
She, who failed herself.

The cloud looms low,
Choking like a fish out of water,
Manacles about her ankles,
As its keys draw dark blood from clenched palms.

She wrenches her eyes out,
A flimsy attempt to cry,
To just let it out,
But it never suffices,
Nothing ever seems to.

And so she just sits,
Staring into nothingness,
Thoughts turned into a vacuum.
She glances down at her watch,
An hour of black ambiguity,
Time hasn't slowed down after all.