Universe,

I’ll leave it up to you:

How I’ll get around,

Where I’ll sleep,

What my poison is tonight. 

And, 

I’ll write you a song:

To help you get to sleep, and

because that’s the only way I can show you

what the next five years could look like.

Universe, 

I’ve been searching for a place to rest my heart:

in these people full of unease, and

between fields of peace lilies, and

broken bones.

And,

Maybe I just belong to:

3am, and

highway lights, and

the pause between songs.

Universe,

I have questions:

How can I die and then dance?

How am I supposed to find this mosaic beautiful, when 

it was created by severing my soul?

And,

I think I’m letting go of everything:

Who I am,

What I believe,

Control.

Universe,

I’m torn between wanting to know:

If this is my yellow brick road, or

If I need to find ruby shoes, or

If I was the tornado all along.

And,

If I was:

I think I’m okay with turning the world technicolour, and

I’ll keep circling like a melody, and

What’s wrong with witches anyway?