From a larger piece

I breathe fire

My heart is cold

I question

Why all the anger, when the want for warmth and love is so great?

Speaking is a challenge

No one understands my non verbal expressions

Those expressions mean more than any word I say out loud

But if that’s the truth then why write or speak?

I live my life in a bubble of fantastical desires and passion to explore the world and heal that, which is not at ease

I am not at ease

This angst


This doubt

All provides insight into the bysmal existence of my soul

They say ACT. BE. DO.

How can one, paralyzed at the notion of one’s breath be capable of moving in any way?

If fire seeps out, there must be a warm furnace down below.

My heart can’t be too cold

My love not withstanding but expanding towards a bigger self

Will I ever be healed?


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