If you’ve ever climbed mountains, in the most intense storms. And all they ever did was walk up a hill on a clear day for you, you have so much love in you. Never settle for the hill for someday, someone will be at the top of the mountain.
My flower’s roots glue me down among the wet soil in which the thunder has stunned my growth. Maybe I’ve already grown through the storms and the sun is delayed in its rising.
I was in love with my own chaos, gripping tightly onto fantasies, falling into traps that swallowed me whole. I am in awe of how chaotic I am, as falling hard into my own trap saved me from who I became.
Every day is an up and down spiral I have become a hurricane coming in with no warning ceasing to understand where my destruction has come from at all.
The lava that erupts from the volcanoes has been reoccurring for far too long and even tho I’ve been warned that my lava can burn others I can’t help but erupt at the possibility that someone will want to burn for me.
