So where do they?
The inexplicable feeling of wanting to be open about your identity, and not quite accepting of it, either. I hate this.
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To never assume
Never presume
That we're in the stage
To whisk away
Our wildest dreams
With a thousand suns
My heart beams
It doesn't know where to land
A minimal touch on the hand
However colourfully harmonic
Could be strictly platonic
And I'm left stranded, hopelessly among it
An extraordinary tug on your insides to cry and scream and bottle it up in rosy glass.
Maybe I'll never get my Disney reveries
A sparkling, transparent identity
The clock is tick-tick-ticking
And I'm never even closer to winning
Tick-tick.
My feelings don't make sense
Yet for everyone else
They do
So why are my emotions so immense,
When everything else feels doomed?
Tick-tick.
I could love my rainbow
(I f**king bleed colour)
All green and blue and pink
No one has to know
How differently I think
Colour was always meant to be a mess.
Told to not come out
The straights never did
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Fantastical Confusion
Poetry"The most important thing, darling, is to live a fabulous life. As long as it's fabulous, I don't care how long it is." - Freddie Mercury Art, madness and poetry--whatever more could you need? Highest Rankings: #1 in poetry #1 in midnight thoughts #...
