Bad, wild and true. The witch is you.

Let yourself get taken over.

Let yourself be robbed of all things safe and secure.

Spin into the vibrancy of entropy with star-hair swirling and feet tripping.

Don’t let them tell you to hold it together.

Don’t let them tell you to smile.

Don’t let them tell you to be love.

Don’t let anything.

Become your destruction.

See the beauty in the shards and aging ivy as fire-dust settles over your bones.

Kick out the feet of understanding and welcome the chaos with open arms.

See wings bloom where fear used to be; feathers cutting their way up through your fever-flesh.

May ghosts flood your home and demons tease your doorstep with livid tongues.

Watch the boots of angels crash through your very existence.

Stand tall on those spindly snakes you call legs and cry: “I am home.”

And as you fall back into those choppy waters, tossed left and right by the moon, let go or swim, it doesn’t matter.

You’ll find your way back to you, because you never left you.

Light and smiling.

Dark or falling.

It doesn’t matter.

You are you.

That is your power.

You’ve got this.

Not even the devil can scare that out of you once you know it to be true.

Know it to be true.

Know nothing is perfect, not even you, and that is your most perfect power against the madness of this beautiful universe of clusterfuckery.

You are you.

Free to be bad, wild, and true.

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