Poetry

I Am Weak

I'm the weak, pathetic butterfly 

with last night's mud and tears

streaked on my fragile wings,

struggling to fly 

like there's no gravity

holding me down

and I am free in the air. 

Or am I the moth

dressed in grey and black

and other drab colors

that help me blend in the night,

staying invisible at night 

as I flutter towards the light

to have myself burned?

I'm the girl who sobs

into her pillow,

so no-one hears my cries

that are filled with silent screams

and sees that my nights 

are filled with nightmares of death and fear

and broken glass streaming down my face,

cutting and staining my face in doing so. 

Am I like the sky,

who freely cries 

with bittersweet tears

running down its face

yet who doesn't cares who's looking? 

Am I weak to your eyes,

because I wish to be vulnerable?

Because I wish my heart

to be as open as my face? 

Do you see me not as strong

just because I am being honest?

Because I'm the girl,

who's a weakling.

Who slips through the cracks in the dark

as I care and love 

and be vulnerable because of this. 

Because for trying to have a heart

in this hurting world. 

Because in my weakness I am strong,

I am weak and that's just who I am.

~ ~ ~

A/N: Quite a few people have said that I'm strong, but I wish they knew that I didn't feel as strong as they think I am. That I feel weak. That I'm not as strong as they think. I am weak, but in my weaknesses I am strong. In my weaknesses through God, I am strong. So, I am weak. But that's just who I am. I'm weak, but that's part of who I am. I'm weak in God.