a part of me
wishes that I wasn't so
afraid to say
something.
a part of me
wishes that I wasn't so
afraid to do
something.
a part of me,
no,
all of me
caught between my voice
and the echo,
afraid to become something else
afraid to become something more
me,
the wraith of empty school halls,
who hides from sunlight
to become her own shadow
me,
the sticky note poet,
who hides behind a pen and name
to separate her mind from her body
to be something
to be nothing
to be anyone
but me.
YOU ARE READING
The Witching Hour
Poetrypoetry about the wicked and the witchy || featured by WP Poetry on Oddities Unknown || #183 in poem (11/3/18)
