She stands by, quietly observing the world she often contemplates leaving.
Her thoughts leave no trace, face pokered, but warm to all if prompted.
Inside, her inner child is neglected, cold, and angry.
She longs for connection. For life. Her own wanning.
Her voice, hoarse from years of wanting to be heard, is shelved.
Don't tell her her voice matters. She will listen politely, but won't believe anything else that follows.
You think her a light but she's ablaze right in front of you. She's everywhere, smiling, carrying on, giving everything she has to a world that has no problem taking it, until one day, it all ends, and she's free.
YOU ARE READING
22 & Learning Poetry Collection: Curiously Beautiful
PoetryBeing vulnerable is one of the scariest things any human being can do; to unfasten the armor reinforced by a lifetime of difficult lessons, strip down to nothing but the fine curves of one's existence, and bare the scars of the soul in the sincerity...
