lift her up to knock her down, no more
outside at midnight she wakes
once again to breathe true air down to the hot cotton cushion where most would find discomfort
there is a method to her sadness
and there are shackles at her feet
trapped in a world where all conform
while she herself desires to be the same
but she's too true to her own to change
her desire to cover every inch of her body in art
to be able to see through the ears she hears through
to scalp herself with symbols
everyone sees it as harm
she sees it as only loving herself
an action she thought herself never to be able to go through with,
but it becomes reality
just right now
the etches, the sketches
the writings, the emotions
they flood her world
but now the people can hear the water rushing in
she hopes they drown in her knowledge and admit she has a point
not everything seems sensible from the outside,
because no one listens to the inside
maybe they're intimidated, they could be scared
is it so bad that she knows thier pain?
all she wants is for you not to feel alone
because neither does she
no one wants to be.
YOU ARE READING
Nocturna
Poetrythis is a series of poetry, and each and every one of them were written as i sat outside, in the middle of the night.
