There was once a carpenter's son;
he died by his stepfather's profession
about an item made of wood

He died by his stepfather's profession
carrying wood upon his back

He died by his stepfather's profession
with wood touching him
He died by his stepfather's profession
by wood with nails in skin...

Someone once told me
Whenever I was lost
I should look to the stars
They would guide me home
But where are they tonight?
The sky is cloudy and grey
And no stars are in sight
Why aren't they here?
When I need them the most
I'm so, so lost and I need them
*I need them to guide me home

every person
has baggage,
and it is your decision
whether or not
to help them
unpack.

I became a poet
In the hopes of becoming someone's poem

Break me open
Untie my scars
Pull out every secret
Every burn

Kiss me undone
Take this mess
And discover every hidden piece
Hiding in the sheets

Unravel my soul
Touch me so gently
Like you might break me
Pull me close and dive into my mind

Undo me
Every piece
Bare upon the sheets
Break me open