This world does not believe.
As I shiver and tremble
and fall
until my bones shatter
and my organs shake
they offer me medicine
without ears,
I am either
too much
or
not enough.
They were never kind
to outsiders
so I became one of them,
I dyed my skin
and manipulated my eyes
until my flesh and iris
were their flesh and iris.
The real one,
however,
she blossoms at midnight
under dim lights
and the smells the roses
and lies under sunlight
because her worries are so little
compared to mine.
I am not a tragic ending or a storm below the stirring Earth, I am not your empty vessel nor am I a glass of dirt. I have never been full of fear and yet somehow I know that the end is near. I may not
Belonging is difficult and sometimes a battle on a field littered with bones. Those of us who never got a say in this destiny lay awaiting a future of souls rather than shells but we did not know. I a
Fragments of myself fell off until I had lost them all, I had lost the soul until I was nothing but a performing shell- I had forgotten who I was because I tried so hard to fit, I never wanted to but