Maybe those little voices in the back of our heads are there to teach us something. Maybe by screaming YOU CAN'T, they're really showing just how much pain we can push through, how strong we really are, or merely how much we can take before giving up.

Bound to the Tracks

My wrists are bound, tied so tight they begin to bleed.
I grasp a breath every so often, just enough to sustain.
From a distance I can hear the metal wheels clicking against the track which I'm bound to.
Louder and louder. It'll come any moment.
The ground vibrating against my skull
My stomach turns solid as a brick
I'm trapped. It'll happen.
I know it will happen. Soon enough
It'll happen.