You’re stomping on my grave and I’m not even dead yet. I’m guided by a gentle light, only to realize it’s the street lamp pouring yellow hues through my window. I’ll never leave this headspace. Every time I try, the world mocks me and tells me to go back home. Let the terror run like water. Bury my soul in the river. Call me a stranger. Call me a fraud. Call me dead. But don’t call me when you’re feeling sorry for yourself. Don’t hold my name on the back of your tongue for safekeeping. Don’t stomp on my grave, because I’m not dead yet. -AMT ©️