Plucked from the woods like a flower

Alone & afraid

"Get a job, make money, or starve."
"Do more of this, less of that."

My head still hurts from the pounding engines
The gasoline fumes make me cough.

My back aches from washing dishes
I can't get the bleach out of my fingers.

But what I'm worried about most is the forest...

I, without a forest to live in,
her, without a fae to live in within her,
we are one, wed together by fate & love.

So I clock out & I go to the woods.

Hoping to find crystal clear waters,
I find a dead fish.
Hoping to find the yarrow & ramps,
I find invasive garlic mustard.

What else was there to do but weep?

I go to work
I don't text you
I go home
I go for a hike
I don't text you
I lie in bed
I wake up, I do it all again
I live my life again
I don't text you

I've got a fairy tale. It concerns the people of the wood.
It tells of the land & the people in love.

The nymphs wandered through the spring openly,
basking in the reawakening of the great mother.

They watched, they listened & they felt.
The wet moss at the bottom of the stream bed,
the peepers & tree toads yapping away,
the birds filled the skies, serenading them as they forage.

Across the stream, through the meadow, & at the base of the mountain,
they picked the nettles and let their hands get stung,
they made peppermint tea together in the shade under a twig fire.

When they got too cold;
they would lay in the sun & blow cool kisses on eachother's necks.
& when they got too hot;
they would embrace in the wet shade of the moss patch.

they would sing with the birds
they would dance with the clouds,
they would run with the deer,
they would commune with the moon.

With no rules to follow, they were truly free.
It's too bad that freedom wasn't enough.

A storm is the result of an angry ocean,
tortured in the heat of the sun,
writhing in the pain of change,
screaming at the powers that be.

Yes, yes, I'm aware.

I've got the hair of an angel,
the eyes of a fairy,
the height of an elf.

I'm told that I'm beautiful all the time.
I see it when they look me in the eye
they don't even need to say it.

I don't care.

What's the point of all this beauty if I still feel ugly on the inside?
To confuse me?
The prettier you are, the sadder you get.

So, I thought I'd fix that.

Here's a list of things that make me not beautiful, on the inside:

• I've not maintained any sort of intimate relationship for more than a few months with the exception of a number of people I can count on one hand.
• I've struggled my entire life with simple tasks like brushing my teeth twice a day.
• I can barely manage to keep a job for more than a year.
• Whenever a pretty girl flirts on me, I exit the conversation ASAP, with what I could only describe as a the most obvious faux politeness in the world. I've pretty girls have been flirting on me.
• I have a hazy understanding on the nature of human relationships.
• I constantly delve inward, hoping to find some sort of magic key to unlock the the car that is my life that is falling apart as we speak.
• I also have a car that's falling apart.
• I like reading psychology because I need to find out what's wrong with me & how to fix it.
• I've always struggled to make friends, I have severe internal emotional sensitivity & will perceive rejection at every turn, because that is the only color by which I see things clearly.
• My father died before I had a chance to become friends with him.
• The person who gave birth to me is still convinced that she could be my friend in the same breath that she'll tell me that having a place to drink tea is a "false idol" & that it needs to go.
• I'm sometimes surprised that I'm not suicidal.
• I probably won't regret publishing this.

Can you stop flirting on me already?
Am I ugly yet?

A sight, a sound,
a feeling, a word.
a little here, a little there.

The leaves rustle, the wind roars
the birds fly, & the cats purr.
These words are hardly uncommon.

So what is it that makes the words unique?
is it the way you say them?
the order in which you write them?

All I know is that I’ve written a poem.

And there I was, alone among the trees, or so I thought.

A quiet, almost imperceptible voice beckons me, I follow her.

Lonely wood moaning in pain, lonely wood wants to talk to me.

Lend me your ear, walking friend.

“I am here, mother,” I say, not sure with which wood I am conversing.

Oh, it pains me so! My roots grind against stone, the birds nip at my bark, my branches reach for sunlight that is out of reach!

I locate the tree calling my name. “What could I do for you, my dear?”

Please cut me down, I cannot bear it any longer. I wish to no longer feel pain.
I beg of thee. Destroy me & do what you wish with my corpse!

“I'm sorry you feel pain, I feel it too. My heart aches for another to love me, and so I hid in the woods so that I might not be found.”

Why would you do that? you could go anywhere, speak with anyone!

“I'm here with you, aren't I?”

But don't you wish for it to end? Don't you wish to be free from it's chains?

“To die is to simply delay the pain, whether we are born again or not. If I were to cut you down, another tree would take your place. Mayhaps a hickory or a walnut, but a new tree nevertheless.”

Silence in the trees.

Well, then I suppose that I am glad that you are here.

“I'm glad too, let us be in pain together, not so we are not alone, but only so.”

And we hugged, for a long time. And we both felt love in our open hearts.

A young child looked in the mirror,
He saw a child looking back.
Love overflowed though that mirror,
and the child felt his heart crack.

Nobody saw him like that before,
a world behind that crystal door,
a person on the other side,
that felt what he felt, & then he cried.

He knew he could not be a man.
He was not sad, but happy.
Man no longer happened to him.
Man was something that life happened.
& life happened him to not be one.

He just didn’t know it yet,
of the not-man that could be,
of the ain’t-her that might,
& of course of the fae that is.

And he knew that all it would take was to be.

To sit in the shade of the pine trees on a warm summer morning.
To eat an apple by a stream.
To walk til there was no path left,
then keep walking into the great unknown,
For the greatest path remains unwalked!

& when he went to bed @ night,
he closed his eyes,
& he saw me in the mirror.
I’d been waiting to find him.
& he’d been waiting to find me.

I think I can take care of him.
I hope that I’m enough.
I love that little boy.
More than most things.
I want that child to be safe & loved.

So I dusted out my heart. I made space for him to move in.
A fresh room, with a window over the bay.
“Just for you, my dear.” I say.
He looks @ me with all the imagination in the world, then climbs into bed, & drifts off to sleep.

The most intimate thing I've ever done
is forget that you're here with me.

Thank you,
for every rebuttal never uttered,
every argument never settled,
every moment you chose to just be.

For every calmness is a mercy upon me.

I want to speak my words & know they mean something.

I want to be understood,
I feel most @ peace when I know that others can see me.
Sometimes that other is me. Often it's me.

But that's okay,
because if the me that is I is not on my team,
then how could I live with myself?

Every day I wake up with a pebble in my shoe.
I feel pain while I walk, and I wonder what to do.

Every day I put my shoe on, and forget to pull it out.
Something is wrong, wrong without a doubt.

I cry in pain at night, it hurts so much!
I think, oh, what could it be?
And my tired shoe looks back at me,
hoping to be seen.

Another barrage of the screeching voice, maybe tomorrow
Another attempt at pleasing that voice, maybe tomorrow
Another despair yearning inward, maybe tomorrow

And somewhere deep inside me a voice says one word;
“Walk.”

What choice do I really have?
And so I walked.
five miles, four Hours on the trail.
Go to bed on an empty stomach, maybe tomorrow.

The birds continue singing
deep down some part of me is garbled and screaming
The sun keeps setting
Every time I stop to think, I become paralyzed
The birds continue singing
If she couldn't love me, maybe I'm worthless
The trail remains unwalked
I'm hungry, but eating won't make me feel better
Another moon
often on the verge of tears but unable to let it out
The grass continues growing
I don't know what I want anymore
The raspberries continue tasting sweet
I'm scared
The birds continue singing

Let me ask you a riddle

I often wonder why I don't cry more
I was born a happy child
I feel so strongly, all the time

what am I?

I wonder why I didn't cry today
raised by someone with a piece missing
anger, sadness, grief, love, pain, hate

what am I?

I wonder why I'm not crying now.
I feel like I have a piece missing
I feel alone

what am I?

So there I am, just doin’ my thing.

on Sunday morn’, spreadin’ my wings
on Saturday I write & read,
& on Monday I cease to believe
that you’ve ever truly seen me.

why can't you see me?
why not? why not?

no longer myself, I'm not around,
I rack my brain, just wanna be found.
and here I stand, a fool again
waiting for you @ the river bend

why can't you see me?
why not? why not?

Every day I wake up cold and stressed,
the other children have been blessed,
someone to love them, that's all you need,
but I didn't get it, why not, why not?

why can’t you see me?
am i a ghost?
am i even real?
have you ever felt,
how I really feel?

why can't you see me?
why not? why not?

Sometimes I wonder why I do this

What keeps the machine running?

Surely it's something.

I feel like I'm doing something

Whatever this is.

Whatever is sneaking to the most remote places I have access to,
& writing things like this.

Then I think about why I did anything before this,
& I remember my best friends.

& before that,
it was walking in the woods.

& before that,
it was catching frogs in the stream,

& before that, it was the kind embrace of the birdsong in the trees.

At the core of it all, there has always been beauty.

I remember,

I remember that there is hope because there is beauty.

They always go together somehow.

I know it's fucked up to say,
But I created a lover in my head,
she never went away,

& you came and filled her place,
I was overcome with glee,
so ready to wed you,
didn't notice what that said about me.

can't break a heart that's already broken,
unlock a door refusing to open,
mend a pot two times shattered
climb up a broken ladder.

Oh Darlin'
You didn't hurt me.
I was already broken.

I really am sorry for the things I've said & done
so sorry to the both of us for the hurt I've become
I hope you can forgive me, for the things I've said & done
please forgive me for the hurt I've become

Oh Darlin'
I'm sorry.
My broken heart couldn't love you.
I'm sorry for being weird.

Every bad decision.

It always starts with that hole inside me.

That emptiness is terrifying, isn't it?

To have no way to escape it?

So I try to ignore it...

... & it keeps chanting

"Feed mmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee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And you wanna know what I get for feeding it?

The hole gets bigger.

& I get smaller.

and the hole gets hungrier.

I went to that sacred place to talk with the Earth
I talked and talked and cried and cried.

and then she showed me that glimmer of beauty,
that shining light parting through the clouds.

in that moment I knew there was hope,
I was struck by the heavens in the pit of despair.

I was loved by the world & I loved the world back,
the pain was not gone, but pain doesn't go away,
pain is just the feeling of a new growth,
the feeling of waking up from a nightmare.

Another day, another moon,
another week, another year,
another swallow, another loon,
another storm cloud to be feared.

The future is full of mystery,
but there are patterns in her wake.
To repeat is to stand atop the now,
the patterns are yours to make.

Luna will repeat again sometimes,
she has a lot to say.
Like a mother, she protects us,
even from our father on high.

On the other hand, our stoic father
chases her in silent desperation.
So hungry to be seen,
racing through the sky.

Our play is full of characters,
but we all have a role in this cosmic drama.

So I'll play my part, say my lines,
I'll scream & shout, I'll be surprised,
I'll fight villains & I'll save princesses.

I'll make this world a better place,
One scene at a time.

I’ll speak with the moon,
I'll dance with the sun,
I'll chat up the stars,
I'll sit on the rocks,
I will sow seeds.

Hello Luna, hello Sol.
Hello Matka, hello World.

What's the next scene? I'm ready.

The morning greets me as it always does, with magic.
The air, the birds, the sun, the peach blossoms.
They call to me like a siren's song.
I became so lost from my tea, so quickly.

I went back to the kitchen from the other side,
but I was locked out from the mud room door,
I saw my sad sad tea, getting boiled alive,
& I saw my reflection in the window, too late to save it.

I just cut open a tick to watch it bleed.

Ticks are automatons.
Simple creatures with pre-programmed responses to stimuli.

There is nothing else in that little machine.

But part of me still wonders...
...where did the part that decided to crawl away with two legs missing ?
As I observe this creature try to crawl away from danger with two legs missing,
I wonder if it feels what I feel.
Trapped in a broken body,
forced to feel pain in a situation it has no control over.
Perhaps in the false hope that it may one day escape.

Is that where we go?
Away from the pain?

I am only on the precipice of understanding what’s happened to me.
Just like this tick with two legs missing.

Perhaps the only escape from pain is to say hello when it knocks.

To call out to the part of me that hurts & identify that it is indeed my back that aches,
or my toe that’s been stubbed,
or my heart that’s been broken.

Perhaps the answer is to accept that life is pain.

I am unknowable to myself.

I’m all a lie,
and yet I have substance.

I'm all fucked up inside,
and I still somehow get up and go.

I am both here & somewhere else.
I am dying and yet I'm alive.

I am as the sun soaked trees against the gray cloudy sky.
I am as the grass, cut down, only to release that sweet smell into the air.
I am as the sunshine on the water in even the deepest oceans.
I am as the horizon, stretching off into the unseen.

Unknowable to myself, unknowing of the world that churns.
I won't pretend I have answers.
All I've got is questions.

I don't know where I am.
I don't know where I'm going.
I don't know who I am.

I am a traveler in a foreign land without a map,
I am fractured between the infinite paths forward.

I am as the spring,
unspawling backwards, uncontrollably & blindly,
into the infinite dead space I was born in,
doomed to stumble blindly in the dark.

To wallow in the shadows, again & again.
And after all that,
to be reborn in the light of the sun.

Growing when I am warmest,
Cherishing my moments underneath the life-giver as blessings.

Thriving where I am safest,
and there's no safer place than a back lawn on a warm summer day.

And of course, lastly;
stumbling into the dark,
where I'll remain alone & confused,
till I inevitably fall back into the light.

crying feels good

crying let's me know that I am not an emotionless golem

crying let's me know I will be okay

I am safe when I cry

crying is when I feel the love of myself rushing in

crying is when I know that things are at their worst, and it's only uphill from here

crying says that life is not hopeless

crying says that this world sees me and that I am a part of it

crying is the best feeling there is

~ Lewa 💚

no, it's okay,
I just have mental illness,
that is why I did that thing
that don’t matter at all.

that is why I did that thing
that don't matter at all.
I just have mental illness,
I promise I’m okay.