In the works/Still editing*
Sometimes I feel caught,
in a tornado of self hate,
Or a Monsoon of sadness.
A lightning storm of self pity.
But the storm never passes, I am only saved in the eye of the tornado.
It’s like being bit by mosquitoes who **** out your joy,
and when you scratch the bites for sweet relief,
you get punished with red welts to remind you of your guilt.
There is nothing more satisfying than self absorption,
nothing more frightening than mental distortion,
nothing quite so lonesome than the company of a razorblade,
because there is no barricade to protect you from
the bombarding thoughts of your self worth.

You see...
I’ve been reminded how cold I am, after being abandoned by a warm hug.
And I’ve been forced to swallow lies,
picking them up like crumbs, off the floor,
when I’m starving for affection.
And I’ve been put my soul in solitary confinement,
so long,
the light coming from the outline of the door,
makes her want to cry.
How could light want to mingle with the darkness in my mind.

But none of these things have made me want to give up.
None of these things have left me broken.
No.

The simple idea, that I think I can’t handle life, is what scares me.
Because I’ve got an infant looking up to me,
and she’s following my footsteps, tripping on the same ******* roots that I stumbled upon,
And I wonder if my stumbling was even worth it.
Because I've only want to protect others.
Because Maybe my brokenness can heal the world.
But how can I do that,
when I’m getting buried during a blizzard.
How can I shake off the shackles that have embedded into my heart.

There’s still so much hope left.
I’m dying to live.
I’m trying to give.

But I keep lying, when I tell you I’m fine.
It’s been raining for two decades now,
and I haven’t learned to dance.
I hope I remember,
tomorrow Always comes.