My heart, it soars
Spending not a single day chained to the earth no longer
While my body, it rots
Beneath the daisy field
Andrea Gibson, Lord of the Butterflies
π¬πππππππΊπ π πΎπ πππππΎπ
Charles Bukowski, "young men," from What Matters Most is How Well You Walk through the Fire
Out of my ignorance, I called you a homeland and I forgot homelands are taken away.
β Mahmoud Darwish
β Mary Oliver, from Blue Horses, "Little Crazy Love Song"
a little moodboard
Iβm struggling,
Stumbling like a failing tightrope walker
I turn and want to blame someone
For sabotaging the rope,
For distracting me
But thereβs no one but me
I abandoned safety net and balancing pole
Instead thereβs darkness waiting should I fall
Thereβs no way of knowing whatβs down there
Should I tumble, would I crack?
Should I fall, would I break?
Should I jump, would I
Die
βa way to let go of my thoughts because I fear they might crush meβ ||they/them||
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