itching.



Inhale. Breathe. Break loose. I'm on my way. To something new. Itching all over, mosquito bites, anxiety, wonderings. I'm thinking of the sunrise, the success, the future. Standing in the sand, making marks, remember. Glimpses of a story, I never wrote. A story without an end. I get dizzy of all words that don't really exist, so I create in secret, and whisper them into the night. Windy hair, starry nights. Feeling calm, while raindrops drawing lines along my cheeks. My walls keep no secrets anymore. I steal the night's unwritten rules and call them my own. Daily rhythm. Weekdays. I follow the road until it ends. Suspicious minds.




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