Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

i'll plead the fifth on all of this.

"The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter - often unconscious but still a faithful interpreter - in the eye."

- Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre


Through the looking glass,
she stared at it from afar.
A decision to be made fast
is sometimes a decision quite bizarre.

Across the room she ran,
her knees quivering in shame.
At the door she would stand,
waiting to hear her name.

No sound was to be heard,
her ears must have fallen asleep.
She tried to utter a word,
her mouth couldn't even let out a beep.

In shock, her pupils dilate.
She feels a dizzy spell.
Her arms were flailing, they couldn't wait,
but her knees buckled, and there, she fell.

Her thoughts were in a riot,
she couldn't feel the pain,
her screams were quiet,
her mind had gone insane.

Despair was what she felt,
surprised she could even feel.
Her brain about to melt,
and her heart about to turn to steel.

Peeping from the bottom of the door,
she tried, again, to make out the sounds.
Not knowing what was behind that wall,
in her head, her mind drowns.

Fighting to stay conscious,
but melting away into an abyss;
she fought to keep her eyes open,
but they closed while she rests in peace.

The eyes open again,
while her mind is still asleep.
Her soul begins to drain.
This time, she's fallen too deep.


Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.



kaleidoscope eyes, sparkle the world.

in sickness of you, I'm just a white blood cell.
fighting like hell for you.


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