Straight Lines

A small poem about how one feels during the hardest part of their life.

Lines of red crawl across my skin
Like a train traveling the line
A vital package carried within
A warm body against the cold wind

Many friends, all to the same end
Arm’s length, I push away
A private area in my mind’s den
But nobody wants in

I get told otherwise, lies
Pretty little dreams to repair
Everything will be fine
Just don’t look outside

Another run-in with death
A feeling that I think I hate
Close my eyes, and a final breath
Run my fingers over straight lines, shallow depth