I'm cutting all the ropes that lead to you.

That bind me to you.

I refuse to fuse them back together. 

These are jsut simple words on paper you say.

No.

This is me on paper my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams, my failures, my sadness.

Walking across a web of tight ropes to hide what I do.

what I love to do, what makes me feel as if I'm safe and possible sane.

But then again who is now.

Im cutting the ropes that lead to you.

That bind me to you.

The only bind I need is the bind of my journal.

You made feel like I was stuck in a cloud blinded, no air.

The smell of the bic ink as the page crackles gave me sight and a breath of fresh air.

This poem is not about you, it's abou thow you made my pen a harpoon and now its a life saving tool.

Im cutting all rope that lead to you.

That bind me to you.

And to do so I'm going to use my harpoon.