I often find myself wishing the best for everyone *except myself

Raindrops kiss my skin
As the sky softly weeps

Winds exhale a deep sigh
Earth's breath engulfs me

I soar to great heights again
Seeing all that lies below

The taste of tomorrow's rain
Quenches the thirst of my soul

My wings singe the sky
I'm consumed by the sun

Still caught in the clouds
While the storm rages on

Emotional hues color the horizon
Brushing along the shadows

Life is a beautiful hurricane
Love is a rainbow

You are not defined
by the pain in your stomach
or the tightness in your chest,
and your shaky hands
and the inability to breathe
are not signs of weakness,
although you have convinced
yourself differently.

Every masterpiece was once
a work in progress,
and there is more to you than
a disorder.

-k.w//An Open Letter to my Anxiety

She is not just an empty canvas for you to fill up your filthy art
She is not just an empty canvas for you to flow out your dark desires in red seduction
She is not just an empty canvas for you to write out your ***** poetry in paint
She is not just an empty canvas for you to colour her in pink and purple that are made up of your lies
She is not just an empty canvas for you to throw out your anger in chili red and orange like fire