One morning

I didn't wake up

And all of a sudden

The world fell in love with me

It takes all types
to consume it
as though you
could sip this cold rage
brimming
does it render me to
rise above the madness
their petty little cuts
or do I gently sit
inside the calm and pray
for pragmitism
it has left
their souls willfully
I know the sound of what
wasp music makes
and it comes painted in
fraudulent gold.

there are tears stinging her eyelid,
so many emotions are whirling round and round,
and her heart clenches as she looks ahead.

but when she looks into her future,
she sees nothing,
and she wonders.

for if she deserves one,
as someone so silent,
who cannot seem to find her voice.

and she ponders,
if she has the will power to influence,
or whether she will fall apart.