I fell asleep in October

And woke up to barren trees—

I didn’t stay awake long enough for the leaves to change colors.

I was a ghost haunting the ruins of my beautiful mind,

My last creative spark shorted a circuit

But I have an obituary to write.

Time flew by and left me in the dust

To sort through rubble until my fingers bleed.

Feminity has always felt like a costume,

Consumed by the whims of the moon—

He stole my will to live

By taking more than he could give.