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Poem
Becoming the prey 
I’m melting away like a 5 foot wick
To show a skeleton of who was once the author
Now the pencil tips break and the pens ink tends to escape 
My eyelids worked overtime as hazard lights, 
Trying to communicate 
That I'm still held captive in this reaction 
But it's okay, 
Cause I could never be the captain anyways 

Taping cardboard wings to exit strategies
And sending them through flaming hoops,
Though it's not the spirit I feel I've captured 
But I tell myself that it's okay,
Cause I could never tame the lion and be the ringmaster anyways

You already disappeared like a missing plane with no debris
There's a chorus of voices in my head 
As painted clusters of imaginary enemies
And sometimes I feel as though your color slips in 
With nothing but recycled oxygen and anxiety to give 
Maybe this time I won't let you touch me during it
I couldn't count these fights with a tally on the wall like a prison cell 
You wanted a battle and you got a war less tangible 
You were diving head first, but I had no access to my arsenal 
And I'd still give my life to you
But it was never mine to give 

And I've always wanted to sing this all out to you
But I'm not Stevie Nicks 
And I refuse to admit that you win 
Even though I wanted it like this 
And you're not one to talk
You already disappeared like a plane, vanished without closure 
You’re the personified version of a unknown number
If I'm endlessly terrified of what you think of me, is that terrorism?
You took a dirty needle and injected a lifes supply 
Of a doctor-complex 
with a degree in misplaced heroism

It's hard not to hear you behind me
With the ground cracking underneath you like glow sticks 
And don't tell me you're too lost to find this 
Just follow my voice like you did before 
And I know you love the role of antagonist
But I really need every confession I can get  
Dressed in tiny little bows and wrapped up like presents 

I wouldn't put it past you to lie in a courtroom 
The stenographer is sweating!
Trying to unpack all these hidden messages you're relaying 
I'm bored, and I'm betting we could get more direct answers
From king tut's tomb 
I wouldn't be surprised to feel you stab me in the back
In a courtroom 

Can I be your exposure therapy?
Can I act so insulted that you feel the need to make it up to me?
I hope you still carry around the blade I bought you just in case 
Handmade and white with purple stains,
I wanted you to finally feel safe
Your therapist is sweating!
Trying to figure out why you're not thinking about me, incandescently
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