She’s just a shy girl…
Sometimes bold, sometimes not.
And in her mind, a thousand words she could utter,
but all she does is smile.
She’s just reserved…
Sometimes coy, sometimes not.
And in her mind, a thousand opinions she could express,
but all she does is bow.
She’s just a coward…
Sometimes with you, and only with you.
And in her mind, a thousand scenarios she could
make happen but all she does is flee.
She’s just a different girl…
Sometimes around you, and only around you.
And in her mind, a thousand thoughts would save her
from this headache but all she does is stay.
The roots are blooming,
the ground is starting to be filled with entities
The roots are intertwining with every possible sense
The roots are tangled up with anger
But anger… anger isn’t a bad thing as they claimed
Anger is a revolution Anger is a savior,
anger is a rebellious sense Anger is the womb for every unborn possibility of worthwhile lives
Anger creates, creates and creates
Anger inhales the life right into the bodies
“Anger” will always remain a significantly immense sense that words won’t justify.
I sometimes unwrap my bandages
And simply gaze at my wounds
try to understand them
"it'll be alright"
"Give it sometime"
I have been trying to explain myself
Why things happened the way it happened
I try to be nice to myself with the answers
I made a new friend in the coffee shop yesterday
He calls himself Solitary Sanzid
I have never seen him
He notices things about me
Things I always tried to hide
how i feel empty as soon the party is over
How i go quiet as soon as my father walks into the room
How i recite poems to myself as i lie alone in the bed
And when he asked me about it
All i wished for
Is to disappear
His nails digged deep beneath
And He ripped off my skins (plural)
I bled vulnerability
He asks me
Where do the lost ones go to be found?
I have lived the pain
Way before the wounds ever arrived
April was a cruel month
Or maybe i was just cruel to myself on April
June was the aftermath
The dogs howled in loneliness
The birds chirped in joy of a new day
July was the spring
The flowers bloomed
I was still alive?
August was nurturing
It took care of me
Taught me to take care of myself
The morning of that day
My father was sitting beside me
And when the time came
He accepted it for it was
I was unchained from my cage that day
Every part of me sighed in freedom that day