Maybe we drown.
Maybe we live.
I’m always kind of on fire.
There’s something inside that wants out.
Something that eats away at the necessary parts-
Something that buries itself inside the darker corners.

I don’t know if it will ever be the same.
I don’t know if I want it to be different.
There’s a crack in my voice
A  tone in my touch.

I don’t know if I can hold this down.

M.

Journal Entries Journal Entries Poetry Writing