You throw it around like its feather light.
I can't count the times you used it on me-
1
2
3
4
5
….
oops I ran out of fingers,
and yet its still a joke to you.
Even after they DIED because of what you do.
Maybe its not just you,
but one
person leads to another
one
person makes a difference.
You do not have permission to use it like the RUG you wipe your feet on every time you walk in the door.
All of the dirt left to be BURDENED by its material.
Plot twist they are the rug-
every muddy shoe contaminating their fibers, being ingrained in their deepest threads.
Eventually it will be thrown out because it is no longer useful.
No longer purposeful.
You cannot just throw it around and expect no repercussions.
Plot twist-
Your mouth is a gun and it just fired bullets-
The bullets are the words you spit without thought, soaked in poison.
You are a toxic being,
and-
OOPS!
-theres goes another casualty.
Not your problem right?
You will always be the gun left loaded and off safety.

Insecurity:
You'd never believe me.
I fear much:
And that includes losing touch.
Insecurity-
What is wrong with me?
I can't bear this fear,
Of being left here-
To fend for myself-
To save myself-
To be myself,
But I've lost that-
Me.
I'm so lost that my map is lost.
Of course you're my map, so that would make sense that I would be lost when you leave me.

Everything was still and then it wasn't.
Everything was silent and then It wasn't.
Nothing was and then everything was.
The trees trembled and the leaves shook.
The grass flailed and the creatures took cover.
The only remains were the brave souls enticed by the storm, captured.
They only stayed, only for their own rapture.
The unknown storm had a strange effect
Standing in the shadow of it was not terrifying, nor comforting but they found something in it that bound them, tied them into this building storm.
Souls bound to the unknown,
Souls invigorated now and vibrant.
Everything was deafening, then the silence returned.
Everything was shifting, shaking, and then it was still.
Nothing became everything, the souls trusted the unknown and changed nothing.
Nothing became everything.
It was all for the thrill.

Eggs
Milk
Bread
Tears
Stress
Anxiety
Whiskey
Smoke
Forget.
It.
All.
Eggs
Milk
Bread
Fear
Tear­s
Stress
Isnt this fun?
Lets go shopping.

The crack came back- a shatter in the watch just in time for me to be broken as well.
Strange as it seems it may just signify myself, strangely it broke again when I feel closed in from all sides.
No where to go, no right move to make.
Something needed to be done.
Nothing seemed correct- nothing was painless it would hurt one way or another.
The bad guy ended up being me.
I ended up the end of all things..
I was the instigator, I made the maze and got lost in it.
The never ending labyrinth continued to lay out before me never showing me the easy path, never revealing the exit though that's what I wanted most.
I wanted out.
The pain the maze inflicted upon me was becoming unbearable.
Trepidation followed me through each turn like an unwanted shadow.
Fear of making the wrong turn.
But no one was correct.
Each brought on new trials that I hadn't wanted to face but I was forced.
The crack was a labyrinth of its own- the design had depth and length.
It's own twists and turns and you could almost see myself lost throughout the mix.

Heat-
The very contrast to my wintry,iced fingertips.
Warmth of the soul, of the heart,
But froze so long, the heart can only be thawed so much-
The flesh remains gelid, cold to the touch.
Associated with hostility and apathy, but the misconception continues.
A warmth within struggling to surface,
Never to be viewed or felt.
Only a desire,
Unable to be attained(obtained).
Gelid flesh-
Frigid, Frosty.
Melts, but freezes over.
A gelid fire unable to be only one.
Unable to thaw and prosper,
To spark
To burn
To warm the deep opaque darkness.
Sharp.Frozen.Bright.
No matter the warmth-
Iced fingertips chilled to the bone.