They say the Woman’s body is made
of approximately 55% water.
I guess this is why I find it so natural
to be a bottle myself
To keep my mouth shut like a metaphorical cap.
To have my emotions inside having them
become the carbonation that
without moderation can feel blissfully detrimental.
To repress my tears, and
choke back my dialogue,
unsolicitedly sharing my thoughts in
conversations that I’d otherwise
feel ostracized from.
To keep testing the limits of my
own capacity gauge trying to gauge compacity
on the maximum & how to exploit it,
how to challenge it to be better, never become proud
holding back more than just water
and introduceing more elements to my body.
To hold the weight of assignments or
due dates, of the feeling of never
being good enough for the person despite
the relationship or the environment &
constantly battleing against oneself to be
the survival of the fittest, winning that
title but coming out on the other side
so much less than before;
you try to call
it revamping or maturing, but
all you're doing is changeing the
components of what
makes me "Me" all in the act to
delay & hiding the shattering of
the person’s gaze
of how I portray myself.
A fight against
time to prolong the spontaneous combustion
that'll leave pieces smaller than grains of sand
on the beach to need to be collected &
pieced back together again.
How can you
put the puzzle pieces together when they're so
small & so far removed from each other
Easter egg is hidden in every individual that I've
come across in hopes of healing their broken, but to do
so I had to provide pieces of myself that were
similar enough to fit what there were missing.
How can you put together a puzzle with no image
of what it was supposed to be
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