I brought you here, Sir. For I am Spartacus.

Right now,
I feel like a piece of bread.

A sad, moldy piece of white Iron Kids bread,
crust edges fraying,
and leaving little crumbs of myself behind as I wander.

I need stability back.
I need warm water to wash my face.
I need to feel safe.

I do not feel that way right now.

I feel like everything I care about is paper thin,
and threatening to break.
And I'm sorry if that bothers you,

but a girl can't help it when things feel fragile.

Tomorrow I will wash my hair,
work the final day of the week,
and prepare for change.

The good,
happy,
"i like this" kind of change.

So let it be written,
so let it be done.