Ocatvia Snow

Thump Thump Thump

A young poet clouded in mystery, I never show my face or reveal my age. I do this to allow my work to speak for me. I paint my identity through my work. I also refuse to publish any of my work into a book, to keep my identity a secret and the mystery flowing. Will you allow me to tell you a story? …






My heartbeat is pounding loudly in my ears;
The rhythm is in time to the drip drop of the warm shower as it flows down my body.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Time feels so slow now that I can’t see clearly;
Yet the sadness and distress turn to anger and fury in what feels like a second.
Thump
Thump
Thump
I can hear the sound getting louder;
I feel like I’m going to drown any second either from the water or my own anger is yet to be seen.
Thump
Thump
Thump
Is that a voice I hear?
Beaconing me back from where I once was a place dark, loud, and full of anger?
Thump
Thump
Thump
My chest is starting to hurt, but I can’t move;
I feel like if I move it all becomes real I don’t want it to be real.
Thump
Thump
Thump
It is real;
It was always real I can never escape.

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