I’m struggling with who I am.
Straining to turn myself around.
Spin on my feet. Feel the wind.
I drape the negatives and choke them within.
It’s a black hole. Where does it all go?
Assembled I was piece by piece.
Ruined I was piece by piece.
Re-build I will piece by piece.
Giving up isn’t an option.
Tears threaten me every day,
yearning to face the silent devil.
All his mistakes turn to stone,
is there any more he owns?
He’s contaminated.
Anesthesia.
