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how often I wish I was one of those children, mercilessly thrown into ballet
by parents who thought it'd keep me out of trouble,
and keep all the scary things at bay
or maybe an actress since age four or five,
who no one could ever really look in the eye,
not even her mother who raised her to say,
"the show must go on, even when you're afraid"
maybe I'd have something that I could get into,
that keeps all the thoughts away
instead of the poems I write myself into
that no one ever sees anyway
I've grown up invisible
and with no one to blame
though often I wonder-
if I was born with a talent that sits on display,
would my thought process still be the same?
- ch
YOU ARE READING
carpe diem
Poesíabrought to you from the far corners, shallow pools, and desperate depths of my mind complete
