Cuts.

i drew a butterfly on my wrist, in hopes that this feeling would no longer persist, but things got bad and i started to cry, so the butterfly on my wrist had to die. once again i tried to set myself free, but it seems my thoughts have stolen the key, so this butterfly lived a short life, killed with fear, and a very...

Feathers.

“ for I am no longer a duck to water , but a bird in the sky ” “ για δεν είμαι πλέον μια πάπια στο νερό , αλλά ένα πουλί στον ουρανό ”