My mind, a weapon. Powerful with imagination.
My eyes, wide and glossy. Blinded by my shame and tribulations.
These scars on my skin, running along every bump and hair. Twisted into art so they don't stun and scare.
My words are fluid but when released are tangled. My hair, pretty on the outside but deep down is mangled.
Demons in my nightmares, stomping on my chest. Begging me to give in to an eternal rest.
©felicia
F