I remember her so vividly;
a picture in my mind
lies
and it reeks of
devastation-
a portrait of the love
we lost but never knew
the bones hold the fever
of the dreams we never had,
the bones hold the storms
we pretend don’t stir within.
Rushing waters whisper
and the scars become silver
until the clock hits midnight
and we begin again,
a rebirth,
something new
but something better,
a glimmer of hope
or an illusion of optimism?
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