Staircase (Poem)

Dead Mass tied to my ankles trip me up the stairs as I pull the weight of my yesterday in a heavy, dark, Weight that's neatly tied to the end of these chains.

Up the never ending Staircase as I chase the rope that I call my release.

I can feel my chest get heavy as I look up from my feet, the staircase getting further and further in this humid and weighted smog.

The Weights and chains attached to my ankle getting heavier and heavier as to each step I climb

It's sharp claws digging into my skin as to stay attached, leaving a messy trail of crimson left on each step behind my feet.

Why don't I just stop climbing? Why can't I just stop walking?

Please just let this be over with.