She’s ready for a new chapter.
But is the new chapter ready for her?
She’s punk again as expected.
The cuts are holes for light to shine, from the lightning and thunder inside.

The plasters are lovers covering the wounds.
The Avocado for comfort and health.
The only way in which she takes care.
The rest is filled with beer and pain au chocolat.

For the pain, the discomfort, uncertainties.
The chains.
The chains remain.
The brain and tying ends together, pressure.
She’s getting ready.
Always getting ready.
But is she ever?

At least for the new chapter, the moment, she tries.
But it doesn’t feel right.
A little better after getting it together, over and over.
She’s never done.

I feel so guilty.
So lost and needy.
I try real hard, but sometimes I am the pain.
Even though it’s the last thing I want.
Why am I like this?
Must be a really good reason.
For this to be caused.
By this lifetime.
I am so sorry.
The last person to deserve it is receiving the call for help.
The one that holds all the horror and the suffering, please please help‼️

And yet that person is the one to answer.
Is the one that helps.
Life in this world can be so cruel.
It is unfair.
Makes me want to leave because it’s better if I make that sacrifice if I can’t change.
But I know it’s also not helping if I leave, they don’t want me to leave.
But it also needs to stop so I need to stop.
Stop this suffering. 😭

You solve one thing and you mess up another, overwhelmed and hypersensitive.
Pressure from activity.

Pressure on me so I mess up things again.
The rain keeps falling.
And I keep messing around.

I am the stormy weather.
I try to blow dry.
But it takes forever and then I just blow off steam.
And it all keeps going on and on.
Things are wrong, things are too much.

It’s slippery.
It’s runny.
It’s a lot of pressure.
And somehow I find a way to dance in the rain at least one moment.
But after that I drop in a puddle.
And I have to crawl out and find a way home.
So I can close my eyes so I can dry up a little bit.
So I can be somewhat ok again.

But it keeps happening and it keeps raining.
And I can’t fly.
The rain is too heavy.
So I drop and mess it up.
The task.
One after another.
One thing solved and another failing.

I am falling and crawling.
And I can’t get out of this cycle, this puddle.

So I spread my arms and lie there for a while.
Until I’m able to get up again.
Start all over.
When it’s raining all over my body, heavy, steamy, slippery.
Breathe in and out.
Heavy stuff.
Heavy rain.

my heart is full of so much love
yet where does it go when theres no outlet
nobody, nothing, nowhere
to receive such love
for i know where it goes
once bottled up
it turns into anger
raw
exposed anger
almost as strong as my love
almost.

When your phone falls down
The screen is already cracked
There is no hurry