#infp confession

I’ve taken

every bullet

and let myself

bleed,

writing

with the red

of suffering,

knowing

my lot

in this life.

Through the shades

sunbeams

paint the corner

of her space,

yet she turns

and fixates

on the shadows.

Torn is the tapestry,

frayed

and falling apart.

And yet

she can’t

let go.

So through her needle she threads

her last spool of hope.