Can’t breathe
Feels like being buried alive,
knowing this is the end
No more oxygen
No more breaths
Just these four walls
and blackness
But I’m not in a coffin
in the ground
beneath fresh dirt.
I’m at a meeting,
a planning commission meeting.
I nod at a commissioner.
She nods back.
She probably thinks I’m fine,
not screaming on the inside
hoping someone will hear me
and dig me up.
She doesn’t know my brain is a prison,
that I’m on death row.
I’d tell her, but I can’t breathe.
I smile instead.
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About the Author
Samantha Jones is the associate editor of Carroll County Newspapers and has been a storyteller all her life. She's inspired by strong women who pave the way for other women to succeed. Her writing focuses on the topics people don't like to talk about, like domestic violence, mental illness and grief. By being transparent about her struggles, she hopes to start conversations that encourage understanding and empathy. She lives in Eureka Springs, Ark., with her husband, Gideon, and their orange tabby cat BJ.