there was a girl
i once new
with stars
for eyes
and shoulder blades
that stuck out
like she wanted to grow wings
and fly away.
and most of the time,
she did.
she was always running
not from her past
but from her emotions.
she couldn't face them
and so
she didn't want them.
she was the definition
of chaos
and that's what made her great.
but
she was so sad
always so sad.
a tornado of beauty
and melancholy
a tragedy embodied
as a girl.
she couldn't help herself.
sad was her comfort zone,
if she wasn't sad
she was lost
and empty
because sadness
was all she knew.
she wrote like her
life depended on it
and it did.
her thoughts consumed her
and she needed them out.
it was her therapy
because she refused any other type.
and
like all tragedies
she did not have a happy
ending.
sometimes therapy makes
it worse.
she relived her pain
over and over
and in her ocean of
sadness
no one taught her
how to swim.
