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Feyre 13h
The words claw themselves
through miles of skin
and bone.
It is a path carved
of blood and tissue,
a journey made
in the silences
between sentences.

Gagging, coughing
up my thoughts
until I am a mess
of misspoken words
and unfiltered thoughts.
It is a sickness,
and the journey’s end
is a death sentence.
spoken word: the harbinger of death.
Feyre 14h
my heart
coils and quivers
grotesquely,
reaching out and
stretching the taut skin
of my limp body,
until it bursts
in a frenzied explosion
of stardust
and flames:
a fire, set ablaze
from within.
Feyre Jul 20
a woman's entire existence
must be an oxymoron

"look the prettiest!"
don’t be vain.
"smile always!"
you're too naïve.
"stand tall!"
no, crouch down.
"we love a feisty girl!"
patience is a virtue.

"yes!"
no.
"Yes!"
n o .
"yes!!!"
NO.

we are a juxtaposition of
what we want,
and what is expected of us;
who we are,
and who we must be
to survive.

perfection is attained
and society satisfied
when a woman
turns herself
inside out
and
upside down.

after all,
don't you know -
opposites attract?
some days i wish a man could step in the shoes of a woman
and feel his feet bleed.
  Jul 18 Feyre
Lostling
From young, we play--
Tiny hands, big dreams

Then they hand us books,
And say, study hard.
Why?
So we can work in the future.

Why work? To enjoy.
Then work more
To enjoy a little more.

A loop,
Endless and spinning

So I say good riddance!
I denounce this life and laugh in its face.
It has no meaning.
Not unless you give it one.

The world can give you a hundred reasons.
But none of them are yours
Write your own answer.
Life is a tool. What will you do with it?
  Jul 15 Feyre
alia
Step 1: Smile.
Step 2: Forget why.
Step 3: Keep your voice steady
when your soul is not.
Step 4: Pretend it’s fine.
(Everyone else is.)

Step 5: Fold your feelings
into paper birds.
Set them loose.
Watch them burn mid-air.
Clap softly.
Repeat.

There is no final step.
You just keep going
until you don’t know
what breaking feels like anymore.
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