Trust (Page 5)

A small, pink flower grows up between the unfinished, wood planks of a home deck.

I flay myself
on the altar of art,
cut down to the bone,
break every last part.

I write it on paper,
type it into my phone,
share it with the world,
and feel utterly alone.

[continue]. . .

A close-up of a sinister-looking man's face, with cracked skin and purple-blue eyes.

Fear makes people see things,
exactly how they thought.
Through biased eyes, accepting lies,
their heart should have fought.

Fear makes people see things.

[continue]. . .