god it feels good to write again
but it doesn't feel good to feel again
the shadow overhangs and engulfs the entirety of the house
and the four walls that carry my soul personality
my weird hippie incense and records of 60s rock
even with the door closed the dark smoke sneaks through the cracks
what it would be like to feel comfortable within these walls
i hear the whispers and feel the judgement carry into my safe space
but my door is always open
i never close it because it will just be unwillingly pried open again
maybe i'm taking this too far
