I'll Write Like No One Will Read It
for I am a master at caging my desires a master at silencing my thoughts a master at sacrifice it is always you beyond me your needs above my own I care what you think and how you feel and how you heal because the burden has been placed on me but no more why the fuck do I have to be a healer I never chose to belong among broken things I want to yell and scream and unearth all the flowers (only sometimes-and I don't want to explain myself) but I am bothered by the world making me a demon the cahoneys of something unspoken, unheard of, taboo and so I have retired my pen, and vowed to never take it up again. I have deleted everything and then the nagging in my head and heart begins and stories left unfinished find new underpinnings and my brain is strumming all the wild worlds my soul is so desperate to colour (shh! I'm creole, that's how I spell color). I have hidden my lead and poured out all the ink and washed it down the sink(I know what you're thinking and yes that ...