Your power is in your secrecy.
In that respect I have none.
My whole being has been cut open and put on display,
for all to see.
These scraps of power that I've gathered, crawling on my hands and knees already too scathed to now be ashamed: They are made of reality.
Made of the pieces of me that will still and forever whisper truths through the openings of my wounds.
I've had to build my power.
From these broken down understandings and fallen tears.
It's something that I can no longer lose.
Evolved.
Now made of all the things that Losing wouldn't think of.
It goes unseen and hushed along the promenade of evenings
and allows your arrogance to dance on its feet to the last song of the night.
Love, Me... Free
