This is a personal documentation through poetry.
I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it...
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My sleeve is caught between the metal gate and the rest of the world. It tore a hole right through my favorite fabric. I can still hear him trying to play the piano in the big room, The sound floods out from the windows he cracked on purpose. But he doesn't know I'm at this gate, and he didn't know I knew how to open it. But what pulls me? What catches my thread? It can't be that melody, it's not even right. It can't be those hands, they're too small for me. Well, it must be me. As I look at my sleeve caught on the sharp metal of the fence, It comes to me slowly as I lift my arm up and away. And I do so with myself, like I have always done. Like I have always been able to do. I don't know how to stay. But I can stay long enough to hurt, and get hurt. Now there's a hole in my sleeve, and a bad piano song stuck in my head.
