& This Matters Too

Forgotten Girl

At school, I am a broken wrist.
At home, I am in a war of the deaf.
In my mind, I'm the last soldier standing.
People say we are meant to move on,
To forgive and forget the memories creased into our subconsciouses.
They fancy it easy.
Imagining a time and place where they no longer live up to expectations but the ones laid out for themselves.
At school, I am a dead girl laying in a field of voices.
At home, I am an alive girl floating among a table of conversation not shaped for my ears.
In my mind, I am an empty birth of space waiting to dream myself off of the world.
In the universe, I am 24 chromosomes.
Depending and waiting on twists of DNA to make me something.
A person is a house for the existence of creation.
Our DNA a symbol of hope and good genes, a bent up fortune cookie waiting to be discovered.
Who forgot to tell you that fortune cookies aren't foreseeable?
At school, I am a shell in which the ocean is not heard.
At home, I am pollutants to the air. Factory smoke emitting its blunderous gray clouds to the white covered sky.
In the universe, I am a cast over, discarded friend ripped in half by my own mistakes.
The world itself dreams in too many colors to count, whereas we think in to many words to ever consider.
So we fancy it easy.
This becoming our own, you-were-made-to-be-you kind of notion.
I feel as though we are only statues erected to breath stone out of hard lips.
Propped up on a pedestal too high
that I cannot look down and still remember myself.
So I am just the girl they all forgot.
Because it is easy,
The becoming.
But the forgetting,
That's easier.

-s.l

To MelindaGreene4 for inspiring me with her comment! My 49 followers are full of support!🙈 1 more follower and I might just spam you with writing 😉