There is a restless feeling deep within me,
Like there is a beast inside me clawing to
Escape the bone prison I've encased it in.
Some nights the claws of the beast puncture
My organs and the burning behind my eyes
Trails down my throat in choking sobs, and
I am not sure if I am a girl or an ocean on these
Days.
It's as if the sky has been dark all my life and I
Couldn't tell you what a star looked like, but I
Could tell you what one feels like.
The burning of one's self as if self destruction
Has always been a first nature for me and being
So close to others that burn but also never feeling
More melancholy than when surrounded by their
Fire.
The raw and naked feel of anger derived from
A sorrow in the pit of your stomach, where you
Know your cries could tear the skin off of anyone
Who came in contact with the hurricane you have
Become.
My whole existence has always been summed up
In the words, "I'm sorry", as though I was never a
Little girl who used to go berry picking with her grandpa,
As though my existence has no right to be here.
And most days I feel as if I am stuck on the dark stairwell
Of myself with no where to go but downward.
