Yours, Truly

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

Now that all the bridges have burned, I can breathe freely.
No need to become what others want.
Plastic dough with silicone as a brain.
Dead eyes staring into space.
That will never be me.
All I want is to create
with messy hair.
with eyes on the stars.
Scream with all my soul until I get tired.
Showing myself to the world without a mask of perfection.
Your words no longer hurt me.
You might say whatever I want about me,
None of that would become true.
Yes, I’m a…



Billingual writer/music lover/tarot reader/Interested in the mysteries of the human mind

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