I'm still here,
with veins running down my eyes and against my delicate wrists, and yes I could snap them with a single twist,
but I haven't.
And I'll be honest, sometimes when the sky is dark and the world seems a little more quiet, I find it hard to deny this weight inside.
But as soon as I open a window I won't feel this crushing despair of time and patience for what's right.
Although I know as soon as I shut my bedroom door and the silence holds much more than before I'll feel it once more.
Except these rude awakenings are what have created me and I can't ignore the things they say to me.
I can't continue to pull each vein to feel control anymore so I'll fight the storms to breathe once more.
