I used to hide from the night
because I believed it was alive.

A shift-shaper of my deepest fears.

I used to hide from the night
because (to me) darkness was just visual silence,
and I hated silence.

In silence, all I had was my mind.
In darkness, all I had was my mind.

I used to hide from the night.
Until I learned we were one.

I am mysterious, made of stars, powerful.
Like silence, I hold secrets, fear, ideas, potential.

I am the stars that pierce the darkness,
A roar of thunder that breaks the silence.
And I am not afraid.

constrained by society’s idea of a pretty picture, you weep as you cross paths with mirror glass.

you are an angel held back by your own tears.
you toss and turn through these endless days, veins choked tight by your darkest fears.

and you're whimpering in your sleep even as I lay beside you, and I’m on the brink of drifting off when your lips graze my ear with a whisper;


“how can I ever be somebody if I don’t have the right body?”

I fell into an abyss of anxiety that stole the life in me.
I crafted problems out of thin air
and out of overheard words.
I meditated on it.

I was poisoned by overthinking and lived
like a man on the run.
I thought I would not be able to get out.
The abyss is deep and unfathomable.

But I saw the light.
The light healed me
and opened my eyes
and then I saw the surface.

I am not in the deep anymore.
I am in a new skin that is not made for burying
but for living.
I am saved.
I am breathing again.