Room of chaos.

“A bed of tasks, a pillow of fears, and a weighted blanket of sorrow. Surrounded by walls of panic, and chained in by locks of pain. 

The perfect chaotic mess, the perfect prison, decorated with her biggest mistakes. Art of her hardships is etched into the walls, and only somber light may enter. Anything other is never processed, invisible mass, completely ignored no matter how big it grows.

Naked steps of sorrow, patter across the floor. Numb and nimble fingers pull at the stiff, black out blinds. But like every surface she touches in this room, it burns her pure skin like a blue flamed fire. Delicate and fragile, this room of distress hardens her skin. Packs on scars like armour, or rather glue. To hold her broken pieces together, to keep her stiff like the blinds, and lost like the light.

Soon her prison of chaos, turns to her escape. We cling to what’s familiar.”

-AuthorAAJ