In the meantime I'll be a sweet pus. 
I'll nestle and purr.
And let you weep woes into my pristine fur.
But in my dreams
I'll trace a razored nail across your throat.
I'll taunt you with death. 
I'll be sour and sinister.
And I'll think in extremes.
For the meantime. 
Now I've suffered.
I've simmered in pain.
And now I find myself screaming, "What can I do?"
"Just remember."
I am the inch worm.
I am the sweet and sour pus. 
I am the girl birthed of love
and nurtured by fear.
And I am always remembering myself.