Mountain

I am buried in a mountain.

All of the three hundred and sixty five days have been spent buried underneath unearthed thoughts of you. Each piece of pebble and gravel that I spit from my mouth piles up, crushing me and restricting my breathing. The feeling is unbearable. Feeling itself is pure torture. The years of not connecting and not caring left me without a stone for miles, so when the avalanche ensued, I panicked. I crumble under the weight of a million pebbles, a million thoughts. The more you wander into my mind, the quicker the rocks pile up into a mountain. These ragged, jagged mountains are the type great for climbing, but I can barely think about ascending when I'm still piled underneath it all. 

Reviews

[Chase]

This piece has a lot of potential. I love the vivid imagery that comes with it. I definitely would suggest that you go over it again and refine it. A few tweaks could really enhance the images you are trying to create.

[Elisa]

"Each pebble and gravel I spit from my mouth piles up." That's definitely my favorite line. There is such weight to this that perfectly compliments the theme. Keep writing!

[LaKyra]

I love every single piece of this. I can very much relate to it and the imagery is fantastic. I felt like I exsisted in that place for the moment. Great job!