i am a mix of sticks and stones —
a syrup stain on the face of everything that holds me together.
how can i decipher what is supposed to be apparent?
how can i overlook all that consumes me?
zero identity — i am struggling to accept my reality
as a broken person, woman, and soul.
i look around and all i see is a red exclamation
who is holding me dangerously afloat.
-missingsuggestion













