3:37am

Burning

Give me something that burns I say as the rational voice in my head says nothing burns more than reality. Can you pinpoint the age in which you stopped caring about others? I wonder if stars ever get lonely? You tell me that's crazy, there are billions in just a small space. I try to explain some don't shine as bright as others and some are just ready to fall. A dramatic exit if you will, maybe it's just because I know what it feels like to be in a room full of people shining bright and to feel so alone. Can you tell me why you believe what you believe and how you can say you know something. If you haven't lived it you can't understand it. I am sorry, but nothing burns more than reality. Tell me why body constellations and crimson still comfort me, why I want to open myself up to see if I can dissect the sad, scrape it from my bones, see if I can find my muse. Tell me how to be myself, but be someone else at the same time. I need to know why my lungs exhale smoke and dust as if I've been around either of those, maybe I breathed in too deeply around your collar bones. Maybe on a different plane we are correlating flowers decorating a field, maybe I am a dandelion only being seen as a weed. Floating away as quickly as I came, flying through the air like wish I was made of. The wish to be someone else, the wish that I was normal, the wish that was made to not be at all. -FlutterflyK