you don't see it.
the turmoil inside of me.
the hurricanes are so powerful
i feel like i could drown
within myself.
the water's constantly
rising up my throat
lapping at my lungs
and i'm
finding it hard to
breathe.
(but then again, isn't it always?)
the tornadoes rip up at me from the inside out
-- what was that phrase
again? oh yeah,
reduce, reuse, recycle --
except everything within
is damaged already
and it's just a vicious
cycle of rotting pieces.
i'm falling apart
at the seams, screaming
help help help
to a silent crowd.
the earthquakes shatter
my already creaking
bones and aching joints
they grind themselves
to dust everyday.
rinse and repeat,
morning and night,
week after week.
(i feel so old,
cracked and weathered
and much too ancient
for my years.)
the storms that rumble
angrily in my chest tell
me i am alive and i am
a freak of nature and
fear me because i
feel it.
god, how i feel.
emotions roll in like clouds
and they are as treacherous
as they are fast moving
and somedays i think
that all you see when you
dare to look is a
heaving, breathing
mess of pure feeling.
i will burn bright and
fast; don't blink now
or you might just miss me.
you don't see it. i am a fucking mess.
i am a girl catastrophe.
