↳ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

iii

i am nothing more
than forest fires and ash,
disintegrating my organs.
my limbs are dead and dry
and my ribcage cradles dirt and weeds.
my throat is overgrown with moss,
capturing the words i try to speak.
i am filled with unshed tears
and words held hostage,
trapped between broken ribs
and a dying heart;
there is no life here.