Scared

SCARED … when I jumpstarted my thirst for sin danced young whistled with the wind sold short my youth burnt like the witches of salem scared … when I was the one with crooked smile he chose to stomp through as if I was a ghost town with flowers and chains with good will and free will … when the wind sounded like winter he exuded calm my hands were callous and he cut my breath I still have cuts everywhere scared … when my psychotherapist wants to change me because I put my ear to the ground to hear the earth’s heart beat … when I am tired of jeans that don’t fit well of people shivering of paid and unpaid bills tired of being a survivor … when the road lies in front of me and I go on an adventure by crossing it I become commercial with only one dimension … when the trees become prime material for caskets I feel their hardness on my back and sides the dry wood cracks waiting for my body’s moisture … when I become a comic book next to my wilted lips balloons filled up with words as if they are rivers or veins and a bored reader decides if my life is rust or blood