I have a thousand and one
questions
yet my words break
before they speak
they shatter
but I am never made whole
even when I lay these
words on the paper canvas
drawing
captivating with a broken
heart
everything feels like its
a fractal
invisible to the naked eye
but still existing
like heat from the sun
wind sailing through the air
it is a broken thing inside me
this heart
this soul has seen too much
but the show
must go on
I'm not entirely sure why I am still in this life, or why I continue to believe writing everything will stop the pain. I'm uncertain of many things anymore, and people tell me everything works for a purpose. But my faith is too wounded right now.