From The Clouds in My Lungs

The poisonous tongue is heavy on the heart,

On its own heart,

On threat mode around my own,

I’m glad it’s starting to feel heavy on my own,

I never wondered how long this version would keep shouting: “the show must go on”, and “stay away from them all”,

Between speaking and healing,

I rather heal and show it,

Than promise change, and then blow it,

Cause it’s a loop, we already know it,

The triggers are still squeezable,

Therefore the possibility to be miserable,

The shell’s too hard and too strong,

But Tear by tear it’s getting reduced to crumbs,

The clarity comes from the clouds in my lungs,

With visions of the wrongs I committed just hours ago,

Erasing the progress like the spread of a bomb,

And the result being a softer version I hope.