what am i made of,
if i don't know what i am for?
i want change,
but i cant seem to want it enough,
as nothing changes.
changes are temporary.
the hurt stays.
it may heal, flourish,
transform, and emit into a milky way
where worries are little to none,
but i have not reached that fully.
i am hopeless then hopeful,
i am doubtless then doubting,
i am beautiful then horrific,
i am looking for needles to
come back to life, as i am
uncomfortable under the
sheets of my own bed—
yet i spend most of my time there.
i mark this new month to evolution.
i will become a darling little star,
to conquer a boys universe,
as well as my own.
may the above see my reality,
and bring it to me faster now.
for i need to be glorious when i'm not bleeding,
too.
5:23pm october 31st
