I'm drowning.
You give me
too much water!

I'm drowning.
There are so many
thoughts
in this mind of mine.
I'll have cried a river of
tears
before the night is passed.
I'm drowning.

I'm wilting.
I get too much sun
in this window!

I'm wilting.
There's too much
pressure
on me while I'm all but alright.
I don't know how
I could ever be
enough.
I'm wilting.

I'm breaking.

Slowly, on the inside,
in the depth of my
soul,
I am breaking,
drowning in thoughts,
wilting away.

I am drowning.
I am wilting.
I am broken.

And I am not enough.

You
say you want
to help
me.

You don't accept
when my answer
is that you
can't.

When my answer
is that I want
you to
stay away.

When my answer
doesn't
make you
happy.

So you tell me
I accuse you
all the time.

So you tell me
I'm the one
at fault.

And still.
Still.
I.
Care.

I light
the four candles
one at a time.

I place my mask
on my face.

The music
is wild
and somber.

I dance
and dance
and dance.

At some point
I stop thinking.

I just dance
and dance
and dance.

I hurl my frustration
into the
candles of change.

My thoughts are
a whirling
swirling cloud.

I draw strength
from these
fires of fury.

I dance
and I dance
and I dance.

I ground myself.

I give
the furious strength
back.

I go deeper.
I find
new strength within.

Not frustration.
Not fury.
But acceptance.

I smile.
I take my mask
off.

And I keep dancing.

How
can you say
I make everything
complicated?

You
didn't even want
to try
to understand.

Why
do you refuse
to even try
to understand me?

I
wanted to talk,
explain
my point of view.

You
say you want
nothing
to do with my faith.

You
do not think
it important
to support my identity.

      Still
      I care
      about
      you.

You
said I
wouldn't care
if you died.

Not once.
Not twice.
But thrice.

How
can you say
these things to
your own daughter?

Once in fury.
Twice I have some doubt.
Thrice I know.
           You just struck out.

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.

It doesn't faze me.
I just put my mask on.

I become
a puzzle,
a labyrinth,
impossible to read,
not me anymore.

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.

I wear my mask.
I'm fine.


I cry rivers inside.

You can't see how it breaks me.
You can't see how you hurt me.

I realised only now.

This isn't good.
This isn't alright.

Just because I can take it,
doesn't mean I should.

I bow out from this hell.

I will no longer apologise
for being me.

I'm an ill omen,
I'm told.  
                 Your loss.

Sketchy.

Suspicious?

No
of course
not!

Sketchy!

Pencil?

Of course
I start
with pencil!

Sketchy.

What?

I'll sketch
a person,
of course.

Sketchy.

Hm.

It's a
person
on the run.

Sketchy indeed.
Suspicious enough.