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
I wouldn’t be me.
I’ll try again
But maybe this time
I’ll be my own best friend