Sometimes when I close my eyes I see the cobwebs I feel in my brain,
all tangled up,
layers and layers of threads that keep expanding into the ether.
Some of them are barely visible
more difficult to expose,
other ones are easy to see,
but all of them
keep blocking my essence,
and I’m not sure anymore where my truth ends
and someone else’s begins.
My mind has kept me running circles in the maze of black and white,
without space for gentleness,
holding on to the fear
I keep witnessing day after day,
as there wouldn’t be any other options
or any other truths than what I have been living throughout my life.
How do you revive the true voice when it has been lost for so long,
buried deep within.
Maybe I can’t feel my truth
because I don’t know how it feels like
to live without constant worry,
to be kind to myself,
to be safe,
to be really seen,
how it feels to take any space.
I start to fill those white spaces that are still left,
with brighter and lighter colors,
hoping that at some point they will create new patterns,
eventually dissolving the sharp black lines,
revealing what really lies beneath.