it bugs me, the way
you walk like you own
the place, standing tall
prideful as a lion, yet
selfish as a thief.

You are all you think about.

can't stop thinking
you, always a damsel
but what happens dear
when no one comes to
save you?
...
Do you have it in you,
that fire, that spark
to be your own hero?

there's a balance to be

struck, the tightrope

between creativity and

burnout; a match lit from

both ends and I'm burning

alive.


I don't know when to stop.

screaming in a

soundproof room

the feeling of

tiny cuts opening

my scars displayed;

bright red. It's like

I'm unraveling, and

I don't want to stop.



"It feels like relief."