Notational

artifist:

before i didn’t feel i was worthy of love,
that is: i thought to have any part of

it i had to find a way to be hidden,
to keep the deepest part of me buried
from the world, and to sprout was forbidden—
i couldn’t rise while i was too worried

they’d see the strange root from which i had grown.
after all, love was something only given

(Source: culturalmarxist)