She is a paradox
dead under the wholesome demeanor of honesty, beauty, and creativity
I find her sometimes underneath my darkest fears crawling up my throat
to express a voice of her own
I lock her in a prison of my own muffled screams
when no one is looking, I feed her one more rumor and insecurity
she is insatiable and I have lost my balance
The broken key is lodged in my throat and I am drowning in space
She is the paradox, that is me