My hands are the gun
My trauma is the trigger,
If something's not right
My brain sees it bigger.
I'm not the bird if fight or flight
I'm much more like a boar,
I'll fight and scratch at my own skin,
Until it's red and raw.
On the switch side I'll kick up a fight
For those who need to see,
My strength is something I'm not all proud of,
I just want to be left be.
I was born a bird with fluffy soft feathers,
But raised a wild threat,
Maybe if you did things differently
My hands would not be wet.
I wish to be not a bird nor boar,
But a happy cat
A cat that lays under the sun,
On a grandmas woollen mat.
-ER
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Something Out of Nothing
PoetryFreedom of expression is something I wholeheartedly believe in. I put my faith into absolutely rawly showing who I am and what I feel as a human being, just like you. I feel things incredibly strongly and desire to let this all out and share with th...
