alive

even when she falls apart,
she knows she’s got it together
because instead of reaching for
a knife, she reaches for her pen
and spills ink instead of blood.
she lets her emotions run free
rather than locking them in
a fragile cage with no key,
where they batter against the bars,
the metal twisting and screeching.
she’s no longer trapped,
no longer a slave to her mind;
she broke all the locks
and let herself be wild,
weird and unapologetically
alive.