You said I was beautiful; but I feel less beautiful now,
or really not very beautiful at all.
kind of ugly in fact;
like a monster trapped in a body not her own,
like my spirit wants out to be free,
to find clouds and fields to roam.
To find a place not like this.
To leave my broken home.
Sitting in my bed last night crying,
I felt nothing if not alone.
I don’t want my body holding me down,
I want to fly,
to find new friends,
break bread and ground.
These scars on my wrists are not my own.
No longer stuck inside this home.
I am a free soul left to the wind.
Forgive me now, Oh lord, of all my sin.
YOU ARE READING
A Glance Into My Mind
PoezjaPoetry i have written at the proverbial best of times, and worst of times. This should give all who care a small but enticing look into the mind of one depressed and wistful sophmore.
