meanwhile...

I am walking through the smog of confusion. Decent air is restricted by a smoke of uncertainty. I inhale and exhale questions that suffocate. This heavy breathing speaks for this heavy chest. That's why I let go of your hand. I want you to breathe conveniently.

You said rest is easy with the shelter i built for you. Whenever everywhere is cold, we were warm. And if the scorching daylight is angry, we close our doors to the world, and switch on an evening sky full of stars and the moon as our soft cushion.

Now as i am also this home's walls, i echo in every room telling you to leave. You see, i am burning inside and out. The wind is against me. It is skinning the roof, fanning the fire, while blowing me off my stand. Please go. It is better for you to see me crash into pieces than feel everything fall on you.

Yes. Those are metaphors. I can't afford to say straightforward words. I am scared it will leave bigger scars. I hope this is vivid enough.

You somehow know now the air I breathe. Do you want to be choked as i am now? What's better? To see a building collapse or be in it and be crushed?