As volatile as Francium, my mood and personality can fragment in seconds, and I feel guilty about it.
Trying to drive at high speed during the night.
It feels like the balance fails here.
My prison is not physical, but mental. I try to act without avoiding the daily triggers.
This is me trying
(At least I’m trying).
It’s like a fog, a rainy day when my mood changes and that makes the city look bleak, because you’re not here.
Missing you is like losing the last leaf of a tree before the change of season. It’s like accidentally breaking a glass in my own hand.
You could be here, but you’re far away, like the moon from Earth.
It feels like the balance fails here.
My prison is not physical, but mental. I try to act without avoiding the daily triggers.
Falling every time, but always getting up.
This is me trying
(At least I’m trying).
Losing you is like witnessing the spring of a river dry up, like the wildlife leaving, like a lost animal trying to return to its habitat without success.
Trying to drive at high speed during the night.
It feels like the balance fails here.
My prison is not physical, but mental. I try to act without avoiding the daily triggers.
(At least I’m trying).
This is me
Judson Kaique, 09/10/2026