Septembers chapter

I turn the page over to the end of Septembers chapter.

And I'm met with October's rage,

Collided with falls depression.

A year ago, I had my first suicidal spiral,

With only my star on my side,

And still there was this border between us.

Now the rain is clattering on my window,

And I'm slowly dozing off to sleep,

Yet there are unfinished paintings turned away in my corner

And the paint dries colder every day.

I write about the past as if is, worth turning stones over,

I'm miles away from there,

There is this warm place I have now,

Which doesn't need running away from

It is the place I run to

Yet during those years filled with fire,

I became to get attached to it

I yearn for the familiarity of the abuse

I yearn for the familiarity your touch would give me

I wish to let go now,

I'm learning that it is safe to rest.

And survival isn't necessary only living is.