i am cocooned in lies
i am comfortable in this home
i am so warm, so sleepy, so hazy
i weave more lies, more warmth, more comfort
i keep away sharp truth, cruel nettles reaching for my legs

i am nobody
i am a false being, a myth
i am confused in this spider's web
i struggle, but my cocoon does not give
i try so hard, but my cocoon is a straightjacket

i am crying
i am lost in myself
i am lost outside myself
i remember a name but not mine
i remember a person but not myself

who am i?
i lie

I've built this wall around myself
To shield my heart from the pain
Like the caterpillar, I hide
Until I'm finally free to find
A love to fly with me in the rain

I see you at the open mic
we smile through mocha haze,
almond eyes bring the butterflies
out of the cocoon I had built for them.

We collide at the milkmen show
dead on drugs and the city,
my glasses fall off and I see you blurred
punk beats bringing the butterflies back.

I sit down we meet by the beach
drunk, for we are the liquor.
In love with the blue sky ocean bay and eyes
we grab the fish by the tail telling secrets by the sea
and here come the butterflies.

Back from the cocoon I had built for them

She was just a caterpillar before,
But now she is a butterfly like you.
And as I wither away into my cocoon,
I hope that, someday, I'll be a butterfly too.

Sad isn’t pretty.
Sorrow is beauty
And depression has its allure.
Grief is engaging.
I am not in love with the idea of sad
But I believe there is a morbid
Beauty that some moths
Emerge from their cocoons
With no mouth.
Like the girl you see,
“improving herself”
Digging herself a deeper hole.
Sad is boring,
Misery is enchanting.

*(r.e.)

Your glare weathered my coccoon
Leaving pores within my walls
So with each palpatation 
My thoughts bled out
i remain an empty shell till
U return the substance sustaining ur ego
And refrain from abusing my 
                     Fervor

in the beginning of my first
year of high school, i was
the girl with messy hair
who tried to off herself
in summer's past, the one
with tired eyes who skipped
lunch despite empty stomachs
feeling heavier, the freshman
with open wounds grazing
the veins in her arms who
sprinted out of classrooms
due to the sporadic nature
of panic attacks.

i'd like to say that i've
transitioned out of the cocoon
of panic disorders and ptsd and
depression, but somehow,
the butterfly wings haven't grown in yet.

It’s 2 am
And the walls scare me
Because the shadows don’t look like me
And the moon is a piece of cheese
That is too bright.

It’s 2am
And the ink spills
And my hands are witness to the tragedy
The Dawn helps
But can’t get back what I’ve already lost

It’s 2am
And I close my eyes
Hoping for some peace
From my ravaged thoughts

I get shaken awake
By my mind reminding me of all the words
I haven’t written down yet

And suddenly
It’s 3am
And I write
C
O
C
O
O
N
With shaking hands.

I stared at the letters
That can start life again
Willing them to transform
Transform into some beautiful 2 winged creature.

I begged it to leave
This 4-wall enclosure
Because protection is only an idea

The walls are daring me to knock them down
Like the dominoes I secretly keep under my bed

It’s 4am
And the words are pouring out of my mind
But my pen can’t keep up.
I am drowning.

Trapped in my cocoon,
hanging from the tree.
Soon to escape,
time to break free

What will I see?
Is the world dark?
Long is the day,
but it's looking pretty stark.

Now is my time,
it finally opens up.
I want to go back in
and close this thing shut.