I wear my thoughts on my skin, till the blood spills out and the ink sets in. I rise from the open grave which nobody tried to cover because they were too afraid Of the monstrosity that hid deep beneath the surface. I’m not made of delicate flowers and intricate leaves I’m made of blood and flesh and all sorts of gory deeds. I need no saving for I’m not damsel, I’m just a woman who is about to build her own castle.