i hide my limbs—
because seeing them shatters the hope
that i am trying so hard to fight for—
just so i’ll have a reason to
stand up tomorrow.
it’s not that i hate my body.
i actually like introducing each of its inch
to my own awareness,
because i have been ignoring it for so long.
but seeing how weak i am
unleashes the weaker version of me.
the one that cries for so many things,
the one that cries for people that don’t
even give a damn about her.
and i always find it hard to recover
when that version of me takes over;
she’s just too fragile to be hurt,
but too aware to be fooled.
and i’d prefer not to feel anything,
so i bury her down in my mind,
and lock her in the coffin i made for her,
and let her have an undisturbed
sleep for years.
but i know too, that hiding my arms
with thick clothes won’t always work.
but for now, i’ll keep doing it,
just until i finally learn to acknowledge
the parts of me that i am not yet ready
to show to others.
YOU ARE READING
Found This Book Somewhere In The Forest
Poetry"Talk to my soul later midnight, when the moon's at its peak. That's the only way of communication that I know, because my physical lips will stutter if I told you about how I want to tear my human skin apart and go out."
