A piece of string unwound, and the entire metamorphosis stunned.
Just asking for a friend.
She feels her heart is tearing inside and ripping out her lungs.
Yet the beat is steady,
And the drum makes her numb.
She is greatness, brave and loved
Yet it is the tragic loss that envelopes her every day.
The kind where it makes you feel as though your skin is an ashtray.
The kind that wakes you up with tears in your eyes.
With hope draining from the sockets and the weight of expectations just becomes so exponentially large that you start praying for it to crush you.
You pray that you can make it through 12 more hours.
And you watch others as they fall short of this depression.
You demand why, why is it that they get to be living.
When I feel so stagnant and dead inside.
Why is this world left up to probabilities and possibilities?