even if sometimes it feels as if you are
swimming in an underwater pool
an ocean filled with nightmares a lagoon filled with
people trying to fish the dreams out of my eyes
to leave them limbless and blind like
plastic buttons stitched upon an empty
face. people that can be unkind.
I will not be your grace.
people that paint the pink on your face and
place you with an anchor in the
hope that you will sink. I will keep my pace.
my heart explodes
in a melancholic melody
the monster that feeds on my past
to plague its walls regurgitating
calls and chaos and a cast
this is not a theatre
we are not a running show
we are not on set-repeat
we can let the story go
we can let the story grow