I'm sorry I can't get out of bed today.
All of this baggage cripples me like a demon
on my back. I thought leaving would
make things easier to bear, but I've never
heard of someone choking on panic
over the feathers they carry in their pockets.
I keep with me all of the hatchets that
were ever buried into my skin while I
stood helpless, though none of them
will ever be evidence for the murder
of the girl I once was--I keep them for
the feel of blood on my fingers.
It reminds me of home. ☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾