Writing

The sun is pink, and the sky is green on the day that I am standing knee deep in perfectly still salt water. The tired marble floor of heaven is finally dissolving beneath my feet.

There is // no tomorrow // blue sky drowning and leftover questions // through the snow, an end is distinguished // where so many divert their paths, paving into the ground // ice is all that’s left, this is how the cliff is found // if

its like

walking through

a forest

where you

think no

one can

hear you

but yourself

you scream

at the

top of

your lungs

until your

insides burn

you're alone

(Note: Please know that you may take this any way you would like, this is just how I see things. I wish for there to be more peace and love in this world.

Who are you, you ask? Why, that's an incredibly good question. I don't know. I ask myself that every day, and I still don't know who I am. I don't know who I want to be, or what I want to do when I grow up.

I'm surrounded by sharks

yet I'm on land

I'm chased by mammoths

yet they're extinct

I'm falling through the air

yet my feet are on the floor

I'm choking on the ocean