"There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you."
-Maya Angelou

My soul is a sweetie:
She’s a cute but ****,
with an infectious smile,
an enchanting personality.
She wears dark colors,
slightly goth makeup,
and thick-rimmed glasses.
She likes candles, tea,
sweaters, and cannabis,
and goes on long walks
in the woods by starlight.
She’s cool and confident,
outgoing and fun,
and as beautiful as
a moonrise reflected
off of a frozen lake.

She’s me.
But I am not her.
She’s the me inside
of the me inside of me.

She cries when my mind
grapples with the bounds
of the mental illness
that gives her life.
She screams in pain
when my mind tries
to rationalize her
and explain her away.
And she glows with joy
whenever I try
to grow closer to her.
She’s the part of me
I never asked for,
whose existence hurts
like a deep burn,
but nonetheless makes
me truly be myself.

It's funny really.
How much you can learn about a person from their art,
and then realize....

You never really knew them at all.

It's been raining,
But that's okay cause I'm following close behind,
The flood goes up to my knees,
It only goes up to your toes though,
How and why are you able to walk like that?
After years of flooding I guess I've learned,
That giving up is easier then taking the lead,
Though now you seem to be willing,
Holding me up by the wrist and,
Wrapping me up in black sand.

Hello my dear, I've been missing you,
Hope I see you tonight,
But will our mothers let us stay?
Well it's hard to say.

It's been snowing,
A storm is on it's way,
One that will cover me up,
Becoming my new tomb,
But if you're still willing,
Will you dig me up and out,
I'll hold you gratefully, gracefully,
Between the chorus and choirs,
Smiling white wolves come down,
From mountains above staircases,
You're still here so I'm not afraid.

Hello my dear, I've been missing you,
Hope I see you tonight,
But will our mothers let us stay?
Well it's hard to say.