sometimes I forget how to exist.
my mind shuts off.
my heart cracks.
I breathe.

sadness comforts me
like a shadow of my past.
I miss my illness.
I miss being small.
the fragility of my being is welcomed
with open arms and mother’s tears.

I am awful.
I am a simple soul that has been hurt
through pin ***** harm.
I am bruised.
forever.

I exude some distorted version of love
from some distorted version of a heart
in hopes of becoming light.
I do not become.

I count my desires and wishes
as I watch them be carried through the wind.
gone are all the dandelions,
eyelashes,
and birthday candle hopes.
for once, I wish to dream a reality.
but I was made for mediocrity.