I have a poets soul,
I am willing to bleed my heart out
Onto blank paper
But the prospect
Of speaking my mind
Leaves me shaking.

This soul
Is thousands of years old,
I have lived a lifetime after lifetime
And have died a hundred times over
Yet the thought of the grave
Shakes me, inside and out.

Mix equal parts of kale and ***** in a blender.
Pour over ice.

The best and worse drink at the same time.

why, what's wrong?*

sometimes everything, sometimes nothing, sometimes i don't even know.  

depression shows up uninvited and makes a home in my chest.