5/23/26

Even after crying, dissecting it layer by layer, I still never seem to release it.

It feels like it’s burning a hole into my chest that I can’t put out.

The fire is spreading into my stomach. My throat. My shoulders. My neck. My head.

It’s taking over. It’s burning me alive.

But wait.

It never hits my legs or arms.

My legs are the ground. And my arms are the water.

They are the borders that stop the fire from spreading.