hardly

 I owe this little girl a lot, and I'm still finding ways to repay it. I have stood in front of unwanted doors and been in the wrong rooms, finding peace that I couldn't feel in my own. All the spaces I've occupied were left with scribbles and scratches. I am consistently falling into this spiral of intensity, and all I can hold onto has claw marks on it. Did I drive myself into this? Or am I an unwanted guess you lost in the woods? It infuriated me to always be on edge without knowing how I came here. 

Whisper to me with soft words in my sleep. Feed me with the truth; it terrifies me to be ignorant, and I am afraid that this ignorance will always drag me down deep. I'm a traveler who belongs to a country elsewhere. Stone attached to a rope that holds my feet down, and no matter how much I kick to reach the surface of a good life, hell drags me on fire.