Crow On The Wire

This one is for the version of me who's thoughts scatter like startled birds, who cleans the counter for the fourth time, who suddenly can’t read a paragraph she was just inside of. I wrote this for the quiet moment where my body braces and my truth blurs—when instinct tries to shield me from knowing too much, too soon.

There’s a witness in me who never buys the performance. She doesn’t push; she just perches—bright-eyed, unamused by my avoidance. This track is a little signal for the days I feel myself thinning at the edges, slipping out of view. A reminder that I can come back without armor on.

If you’re someone who senses things too early, holds too much, or slips out of your own skin when the feeling hits—here’s a small light on the wire for you.

May it meet you right at the edge of your truth.
May it welcome you back gently.
May it steady the place you stand.