I squeeze myself into an empty box-
it’s not comfortable but its bearable.
I cut my hair, wipe my make-up off,
its not glamorous but its practical.
I rip the words out of my mouth –
hang them up like Art in empty spaces.
Watch you tear them down it fits of flames,
to indifferent looks from vacant faces.
I lock myself up in a cage –
it’s not freedom – its secure.
I’ve lost the key and can’t break out:
each coming night, my days grow fewer.
I take a breath – I breathe in life.
it’s not magic – its only living.
I grit my teeth – I close my eyes.
it’s not forgetting – its just surviving.