sticks and stones
can break my bones
words like swords
hurt me the most
but
i like to
pretend they don't

i whispered the words:
"be with me,"
but you let go and
disappeared anyway.
then the demons came
to take your place.

someone once told me:
"falling in love
is like skydiving
without a parachute."

i guess i'm never doing that,
unless an angel catches me.

your sword is pointed at my neck,
so go ahead and slit my throat.
you'll see no fear in my eyes when you do.
the tip of my dagger already did its job,
and soon, the poison will **** you too.

i find comfort in isolation,
and isolation in a crowd,
i find a crowd in a society,
and a society in a world of people
who suffocate, wound and destroy.

they're all piling up.

i may be exhausted,
and feeling half dead,
that one day i might
just let myself go.
but a voice tells me:
"when the sun sets,
it always rises back up."

so i do.
always.

they say all of it is worth it
in the end, it is.

weeks maybe excruciatingly long,
but the universe gives me these
tiny breaks inbetween
as if it's telling me:
"here's love, comfort and home.
there's a storm coming,
more destructive than the last one.
but i know that you're stronger.
your bones are steel,
your spirit is unbreakable,
and you will survive,"

and i will.