just a small, cold fragment
lost in what I have built
my own prison of metal
a turtle shell without the holes
and I beg for a release from
the echoes of my own voice
never to have the pleasure
of exiting my throat into
the ears of the people
I’ve given all my cares to.
every weakened fiber
that is holding me together
I’ve put into their hands
begging for a light, a reasurance
yet so afraid of the negative spaces
I shy away into my armor
too scared of them ripping me apart
and steeling what little thread
I have left
