Anxiety washes my beach, not to leave it clean and pristine, but to leave it littered with the debris of the storm once passed. My task in life is to constantly clean the wreckage, the shattered pieces of my broken heart and the pieces of my life I splintered on the way, because I can’t keep my shit together. So when you say something, remember the warm glow you see from me is just the reflection of the dumpster fire inside. © Emma Steel
The light from your fire,
Burns brightly across the sea,
Like angels to me.
The light from your fire,
Burns brightly across the sea,
Like angels to me.