Count your sheep,
and I will count my scars.
Pick shapes from your clouds,
as I do from my scabs.
Find comfort in your love,
I will find contempt for it instead.
Numb is not a word,
I am blessed enough to use anymore.
Flames lick and nibble me,
while I burn in my own emotions.
Pandora's box could compare not,
to the hurricane inside my soul.