“Pressure” by Elden Pierce


There is a weight on my shoulders.

It pitches me forward, drags me down,

crushing me as if I am no more

than the smallest of insects. I am nothing.


Am I carrying it, or is it carrying me?

I have not the sense to tell anymore.

It has taken away my strength, my will.

It is my master, and I am at its mercy.


Somehow, I am still standing,

though I can feel my core breaking in two.

I am the molted skin of my old being,

a hollow husk, an empty soul.


The pressure, it kills me, resurrects me, repeat.

My endurance is fading, my body is weak.

I scream for someone, though I know there is no one.

This, I must face alone, with only the great shield to guide me.


This constant demon, I must slay,

to clear the path that I must take.

I am strong. I am living. This will end, today.

My sword raised, my shield steady, I am drafted into a lifelong battle.