My mind is like an iceberg of marble. Marble that floats and is covered in styrofoam. I feel it break and hear that unpleasant sound like my skull is being forced open, being told to talk and expose itself.
Why do they think it’s so easy? Why is it hard to appreciate happiness?

I see honey dipped flowers and trees of cotton candy. I see the blood on your dress. I don’t know you any more. My cocoon of doubt, self hatred.

Dramatic. I feel the pulse of your electricity.

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