Do you know her?
Do you really know her?
Can you say you've peeled back the skin, cut the muscles and flesh back and shoved the bones out of the way to get a look at the soul inside?
No, screw you. You have no idea.
Her soul is multicolored
Raw emotion
Shattered, stained glass
Light shines through the cracks, painting a beautiful picture on her face
A smile, a laugh, an illusion
A sprinkle of optimism here, a tear there
She squeezes her eyes shut, praying for release
Every second she sits here she feels more and more like exploding
Fireworks, gunpowder, flash b a n g
She wishes she could physically rip herself to shreds
If only to finally fucking breathe
She's been holding her breath for way too long
The air tastes bitter in her lungs
In the corners of a room full of people she feels so alone
Gritting her teeth, she aches
Digging her finger into her chest, she carves, frustration getting under her fingernails
She pulls away the tendons and ligaments that link her thoughts and throws them behind her
She just wants to be happy
Why is it so hard to be happy?
She wonders aloud, pressing her face into the wall, her headphones stinging the flesh of her ears
Sometimes music helps her breathe, but only for a second
A singer's voice only ends the monotony for a heartbeat
Where are the notes when tears are streaming down her face?
A symphony to drown her sadness
Harmony to help her hear again
Maybe there's something wrong with her
She muses to her phone about how happiness is temporary
How ill she feels
How happiness feels like smoke through her fingers
Out of her reach, far from her grasp
"You're too sensitive," they say
Yeah
"You're too nice," they tell her
Yeah
Wings clipped again.
