i'm not filled with stardust or galaxies like you might want to believe, and i don't have flowers growing in my ribcage or constellations in my brain. i'm blood and bones and flesh just like everyone else, except these bones are hollow and this flesh is torn and scarred. these scars are not beautiful or unique and neither am i; i'm just a girl with shaky hands and pale skin and a tendency to self destruct. my eyes are not the forest or the ocean, they're dark and hollow caves filled with fear and regret that have seen more than they should've but hopefully one day they can see the light again. there's no sunset in my veins, it's just blood that's been spilled onto the bathroom floor too many times in a desperate attempt to reach any last bits of hope buried inside of me. i'm not a hurricane or a tsunami or any natural disaster; i'm only ******* human and before i become a metaphor i just want to feel *alive.

the angel of
the strangest love
wraps her feathery wings around me

the danger of
the strangled dove
delicate wings surround me

12 am
Choose a profound song,
Play it on repeat,
Study feverishly while the song plays.
Go away, Sleep!

2 am
Let the song still play on,
Guiding your thoughts to the very deep,
Telling your heart that the night's
Too young still, to sleep.

4 am
The loop is never-ending,
Mind numbed by racing at top speed,
Yet thoughts and memories charge on,
Musically gnawing away your sleep

The birds have awoken now**
Nothing feels real anymore,
Life/love/promises-you want none to keep,
As soon as you "Stop" the haunting music,
Realising again tonight, that all that matters, actually,
Is a beautiful Sleep.