Writing

Pain is a sign 

That something is not right

Just because I have 

A high pain tolerance

Does not mean

That I have to ignore it.

there's a jar on my nightstand;

it used to be my grandmother's

but i recycled her memory 

into a pandora's box full of happiness.

the slips of paper are periwinkle

with dark purple penned messily,

Sometimes I imagine 

That my life is a movie 

Each scene belongs to a song 

Each song to a scene 

Sometimes I let myself 

Just float in the music 

My little notebooks, 

with lined paper so blue like the sea, 

With words of my thoughts upon its pages that have gotten me through so much hardship.

it stretches my face apart 

not unlike the plates 

we learn about in science class. 

pulling at my jaw, 

cheeks, 

lips, 

until finally 

my whole demeanor 

I was thinking- is it okay to be cruel to somebody if it's to protect them from something even worse?