Written by Gabriella Troy


if i thought i could recover
maybe 
i would try. 
but my mind, 
it’s a funny thing:
it doesn’t know my body.
it doesn’t listen.
it likes to fight
and hurt and crush
my personality into
ash so i am free
no longer to burn, black.
black, black, monsters
crowd my mind.
my mind suffers
an alien invasion 
and my limbs submit
to the whims of a puppeteer;
i have lost control and
i have lost myself.
i am neither a mind
nor a body,
just a chaos of pain 
and doubt and defeat
because i have rejected
myself.
if i thought i could recover,
maybe
i wouldn’t want to
maybe
fear would feed my monsters
maybe

i need someone to collect my ashes

maybe

i’ll just be

for now.

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