Insecurities.

   Impure. Tainted by filthy hands. By harsh words. By the world.
                        You're not you anymore.

   Molded into this clay creation. Shape shifter of body & mind.
                    Porcelain doll threatening to crack.
                
   Insecurities running deep in you like a river.
                Wild, strong, never faltering.

   All the way down to the roots.
           The very core of you.

   That's where you're trapped, stuck.
      Asleep inside this tomb of  a life.

   Wake up from this fantasy.
         Wake up...



Bri.