Shall we play a game?
It's called: guess who doesn't have a 'daddy'.
I wonder who you'll look for.
Would you see me in the background,
Or only see all the girls too loud?
I am not someone who'd act like
She wants the whole neighbourhood to know,
I'd never try to get a boy to take me home,
Or pour a bottle down my throat.
In fact throughout all of this,
I'd rather sit alone than blindly follow.
Instead I sew together my heart and mind,
Ignoring all the times the thread is torn apart
Because I hear that's what you're supposed to do.
How could I let my quiet reality
Shape my judgements?
No matter how loud it is to me.
I always take my time,
I keep my voice a whisper,
So it's less harmful to everyone
Who feels ashamed to listen.
The stories in the books i read may seem hopeless:
I read them anyway,
My dreams I may not want to follow,
Still I continue all day.
Once I thought I acted like
Nothing ever touched me.
However now I believe that was delusive.
I try to stiffen my screams.
Maybe I'm not heard at all,
Because really what I think is a lot from others
May just be quite small,
I think I've always tried not to bother.
Pressure is everything in the days and nights,
When things go wrong it's easy to fight
With anything you can.
My favourite lines now seem to be:
"He isn't there to care.
And he never will be."
5/12/17
VOUS LISEZ
Escaping Sorrow
PoésieA project where I attempt to overcome the absence of an unknown man supposed to shape a father - whatever that is. Putting this out here is a massive step for me because up to a point of last year I hardly even allowed myself to write down the word...
