➳➳➳
Her bones belonged to the earth.
She knew it.
Her hair belonged to the breeze,
and her eyes belonged to the position of 'up'.
She's witnessed red lava seep deep through particles of oxygen,
she has seared her lungs, ash-like, amidst black tar grime.
Exhaling dust clouds of burnt out words, deflated passions.
Asylum alive; the muffled noise of a misplaced girl trying to inspire death to make a move somewhat like chess.
This required less of an intense interest in living.
❁❁❁
