The story of my eyes
The stories of my peace
The thoughts that do not rest
The pain that gives me ease
Unfortunate I cannot feel fortunate.
I run from the little
I run from the big
because it Is all falling down in my head
Just because you can’t see it
doesn’t mean it won’t fall.
Fear
falling apart
quickly grabbing at pieces
becomes its own art
To find myself
and everyone else
we must avoid this permanent fear of loss
It’s the story in our ears
I just wish to tell you the stories of all the things we fear
MY FEELINGS were tearing me apart until I let them leave their marks on another type of skin.
It's the freehand.