I could curl into a ball inside myself, to disappear forever, I’d never be alone again… I’d be my souls needs sweater… And maybe when a poets pen lacks ink..

Its because they’re on her cheeks,

cutting paths in the sand that was she

Eroded, but trees still stand on me


I’ll take their strength and strangle me

To rebirth a better version

Less trust, and more aversion

But then

I wouldn’t be me.

Safe spaces…

I’ll try again

But maybe this time

I’ll be my own best friend


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s