mama told me to love hard
not be a fool hard in love for the
wrong person.

as usual, I don't listen too well to mama.

Fairy tales are lies, lies
What happened to my prince?

He's imaginary
'Cause it's a fantasy

Where are you now my prince?
I believed you would come

Take me to your castle
So we can run away

I want to be with you
Don't leave me here my dear

The ending is near, near
Why did you deceive me?

She dances in her garden
thinking that I am Adam.
-
Yet I am the serpent,
the storm that gathers.

“what are you going to do with your life?”
they all ask me
teachers
parents
peers
coworkers
my answer is simple
i don’t know
because i didn’t think
i would still be here

I exist
on the border
between Reality,
and the Imaginary.

I breathe in belligerent Black,
and Withering whites.
I am incapable of grays,
a gradient of gruesome Grief.

I dance on the Border,
exhaling exuberant fragility,
my border is made of glass.

And I rise from the ashes,
a Byproduct of the
bridges I've burned.
Craving soothing touch,
Yet silently seeking
Incriminating Isolation,
Addicted to my own destruction.

A shattered soul dutifully
Dances on the Border,
Held captive by her sins.
Trapped between Good
and Bad. Happiness
and Heartbreak. Lost
and Found. Death
and Resurrection.

Born on the Border, a
Simple Figment of
Immoral Imagination.