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{“You can’t fight for what’s left in you, 
You cannot fight against the waging war that disrupts within you. 
You can’t be against it, it was fulfilled with nature, the nature of you with every implementation of your flesh being ripped off from the soils of the ground as you were sculpted by the Creator, artistically magnificent. Your heart was molded into what has been taught to feel, to breathe, to see, to hear, to sense in the seventh degree. To feel the earth that you came from, to feel so deeply and love so wholly. You cannot be heartless even if you try so much, you will never know what paradise is if you cannot feel it in your veins shuffling like the playlist of your taste in music. You cannot fight against your sentiments, how much they dilate in prosperity that it remains vague, exotic yet tortuous. You can’t fight against the spiraling staircase that has been waiting for you to skip and topple off from- for your falling that you yearned for once a child, forever a child. The flames shroud, cackling at your feet, at your heart, bent over, it never reaches above your head, 
above your heart. 
It doesn’t burn it, it leaves it there for it to suffer unimaginable degrees. 
Feel the guilt, arise in it, feel it whiplash through your arteries, 
relapse against it. 
Voyage to the very beginning, 
surrounded by the masked presence of strangers, love or hatred coaxing you. You came into this world, screaming and thrashing, wailing and crying, you come into this world, you stand along the sidelines of the bridge and you keep on wailing as a child would, for the betterment of your soul- don’t feel I scream with restraints holding my feet from toppling over the hemp of the railings. 
In the middle of the night, I cry on the boat for no reason, the waves of whiplash fly through my scarf which was almost lashing away from the wind- because of it. The burns ignited on my flesh have made me undoubtedly insufferable for many- sick to my stomach, my skin in rashes from the pain they implemented onto me and it doesn’t let go, it latches on to me no matter past or present. It doesn’t let me breathe, stop fighting, I want to scream at my thoughts, though the man would catch my undoubtedly loud, melancholic craziness as he has caught sight of the drops that protrude from my hues and ink down as tattooed that would stain my cheeks profusely. They would never dwindle, if they were to I know that I would long for them, and instead, my heart would encounter an episode with tremendous high points of mountains, bottled up with volcanic acidic substance. 
Just ready to explode, the townspeople thought I was a manic, that felt too much and gave too little, but I gave everything left from the insides of my core and there was none leftover. 
Nothing to give, nothing to take, the townspeople feed on all the lies that were forsaken to them, gave without the chains surrounding, without a prologue, without reason nor treason. 
Lies of damnation that coat over my devotion and sacrifice with scars of perspiration which dot my hollowed cheeks from the suffering of unintentional words, 
Shot at me, 
Constantly,
Stop fighting me, 
against me, for me. 
Leave me bound for love, leave me on the pedestal, hung and lost, leave me with the last bits of love I have left- no fight inside of me has been found nor discovered within the X-ray monitors going off, and the machines that beat profusely to prove that I am indeed alive, though I am alive because of the love never given, forever taken, robbed of life, stolen. 
Lately, I have been anguished with the guiltless and lifelessness that never seems to revolt from me- or against me. Lately, I yearn for somebody to tell me, the rocks that sway with the wetness of the sea that coats them. I hear them shout at me. 
To give up my soul and soar to the heavens. The horizons would be the only Catalina that stings aside from the coldness of the oceans for which it sends jolts through my body yet is lost as I were - Just to stop fighting for you against myself.”}
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