the terrible unfairness, of how there can be no healing without pain.


- haunts me in my sleep.

go on.

starve yourself.

as if you're not already hungry for something your flesh cannot touch.

go on.

starve yourself.

as if you have not already lost enough.

go on.

starve yourself.

as if your ego is more important than your soul.

f
   a
l
    l
i
  n
g

d
o
w
n

the rabbit

   o   l   e
h             h
o             e
l              l
  e   h   o

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

she was standing there
in the middle of nowhere
searching for herself