I ran out of ink
For the time being
A well run dry, critical eyes
Floating to a punching sensation
I search through my childhood room looking for answers.

I found a photograph of me from behind
Age 14.
The day I was groped
By a stranger
I would later recognize
At age 25.

I got really ****** tonight
For the first time in several days
Uncovering photo after photo
Of these fantastical beings I had dreamed up
It was my thing
My world, my refuge
Writing and drawing the pristine white south away.

I don't know where to go from here
I thought I would have more answers
But I see now why its hard after you drop
Your first big
Shot
To then return to the drawing board
Wanting to level up, create, dream
And you think
You just think
How will I go at this all over again?

You just will little bad *****.