For Orlando and Christina

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bottle

i’m a bottle suppressed, stuffed with dried up tears and dreams that remain as dreams, words unsaid and crumpled up thoughts, neatly folded emotions and everything that othe

tragedy

the tragedy wasn’t found in the uproar of the deep blue with which its crescendos supposedly meant to overpower that of the voices it wasn’t in the silence casted, kissing t

untitled

I've been struggling, in the constant cycle of denying & living with my mental illness And art has always paved way for self-care, and somehow, healing I truly believe i