It is supposed to run free?
When I just want to crawl and be me.
If I vomit, I vomit wounds
The chill is a scratch in my legs
Freezing my stomach, my tombs.
I push hard my head,
I end up falling into my feet.
Everyday I wake up to die again,
To fight, to run and to fall into the beat
Of my own heart.
Poor little soul who never rest
Even in the darkest times,
I still can’t find my own nest.
Rolling up into the sun
For the first time in years,
The grass into my moves,
The noise into my ears.
Do I crush the floor?
Or do I crush myself into the floor?
Please, close the door.
I’m a disconnected doll
Open my mouth and I end vomiting oil.