I feel suffocated. Are they the reason? Or am I the treason? I just can't make up my mind. I'm being what's near, And that's so unclear. Walking, running, crawling; Begging for mercy At the wrong faces. Stabbing myself, With poisoned ivy branches. Falling, breaking; a shattered Colorful gray portrait. That would be me, So beautifully perfect At the wrong places. Truly I'm nothing, But something, At every corner. ~ Celestial