Believe
- Reads 4,048
- Votes 84
- Parts 92
MatureOngoing59m
Last published Fri, Apr 17, 2020
This is the tale of emotions gone rogue. They stole a depressing '69 Mini Cooper Country Man. Denial is driving. Anger is smoking a cigarette in the passenger seat. Identity is nowhere to be found. The red flags are in the trunk.
Okay, not seriously but that's what it feels like. This is a collection of poetry. I can't wait to be a dead poet so I can finally be appreciated.
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Her Breaking Point
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White Top Hats
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They said the Hunt was sacred. That if I was chosen, it meant fate. But fate didn't feel like a mouth on my skin or claws at my back. It felt like blood. Mine. For years, I stayed hidden. Quiet. Unclaimed. I stole seeds from the state fields, grew food in secret, fed my family from soil and silence. I did everything right - stayed beneath their radar, beneath their noses. I didn't make waves. I didn't ask for more. But monsters never forget a scent. And when the Hunt came, I was scented. Tracked. Taken. I stabbed him. I buried the blade in his shoulder and watched him bleed. It didn't matter. Because he still bit me. And the world saw. Now my face is on every screen. The girl who didn't run. The girl who fought back. Some call me a rebel. Some call me a mate. But they all forget one thing. I wasn't made to be claimed. I was made to survive. And if they want to collar me, cage me, crown me - they'll have to reckon with everything I've kept buried beneath the roots. Because I am not the flower. I'm the fire beneath it. Rewrite version of formerly known book Escaping the monsters Embrace
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