I do not like explaining.
Do this during this.
And if this happens, get that.
Must I tell the world?
Follow these instructions little girl.
Blank stares assure me.
That I may not wake up.
I may not breathe.
And nothing will happen to me.
Except my possible death...
Nobody can hear me.
When Im far from safety.
I cannot speak, I cannot scream.
Mom. Dad. Friends. People close to me;
Im just explaining.
Google it.
Actually know what is going on.
YOU ARE READING
My war.
PoetryI have been diagnosed, ripped apart, shot down, kicked around. But ill be on broadway. Even if i have to buy a street, name it broadway and perform. In all seriousness, instead of sleeping forever, i wrote out my war.
