“What is it? Why is your hair a mess? Why are you crying? There is no whirlwind outside of your head.” She squeezed the inside of my arm with her little hands. Her little hands only understood how drawing was more fun than playing with a ball and that was simple enough. Why was my hair a mess? What war was there? Bombs and bombs and knives and threats. But outside no whirlwind. Just you, throwing yourself around. 
Free me, insidiously. You again. I love you. I love your sound. A reminder, some days I am free. Other days, I work for freedom.
I said this loud and how profound,
my voice again lost in the crowd,
birds again, no words again,
swallow and swallow aloud.
Let me crack and never bounce back
this is how I know to be.
I’ll break and break
as if I want to break free.
But do I? I ask.
I like wearing this mask.
No true sword can penetrate.
But behind it, a gate.
Awaiting sure fate.
I need to be obsessed with something.
What will save me now? I gave up. On you. On me. On running and running, knowing I’d have to stop and breathe. Breathe it all in? All the smoke from the friction?
And my eyes roll back. I relinquish control. I give it away. I fold.
For hours, I’m yours. I’m exactly the perfection of non-existence I was before.
I go somewhere and exist nowhere, finally I bare no thought.
Until morning when it rushes in. I start again, fight my friend.
Why are you back when I’ve taken measures to keep you at bay?
Ah, you’re unbelievably ugly. And I know, you’re not even fair.
This, my defence, I drop occasionally when I feel an inkling of freedom.
And you appear again, armed. I look around and remember my sword.
My sharp thought, my tongue. I pick it up and lick you like a dog.
You don’t even deserve to be licked by my sword.
But, I’m smart, you see. I tame you this way. I lick you and lick you until you bleed from your face.
And you’re humbled again.
Until next time, love.
I walked out closer to the meet between sand and sea.
I knew it’d be the death of me. But just then,
My eyes looked straight ahead to the sunset.
I don’t know where the water started but it was close.
It’s just that the sun mesmerized me
and I needed to keep it forever.
I fell straight in and I knew it was my fault.
Water, again. 
‘Why did you do this to me?’ was strangely comforting to repeat. I asked, knowing I’d hear nothing back but after the twentieth time, I was okay.
And now I’m left here to ‘deal’ with real human emotions. Nothing to take it away. Such beautiful soft souls need numbing because without it, they’ll die of pain. What do they call it? Yes… ‘Patience’. That thing that saves you from yourself. That thing you need between the strike and the regeneration. Patience. I wait with you. You’ll carry this away. Without you, I fear I might turn to dangerous relief. The type of relief that catches up with one after a while of dependence. And I keep telling myself that’s okay. Just sit. Wait it out. But maybe for me, it hurts so much more than it does for you. Maybe I feel it all too much and being hard will make me a monster, but being soft will kill me. Is this what you other humans do? Wait? Or maybe you don’t feel like I do. I know there are some like me. I wish you’d not let the world make you ugly.
smallbloomshloo 