I have three lives.
Each separate from each other,
connected by the smallest of threads.
There's the me in the real world.
The one that feels pain and joy.
The one that knows people
and has the chance to grow and create.
There's the me in my dreams.
The one that lives fully.
The one that isn't afraid when she faces danger head on.
The one who has seen horrors and survived,
giving air to the thoughts I couldn't before fathom.
There's the me in my heart.
The me that's more wind than person.
The me that feels more than sees.
The me that desperately wants to leap and fly
and lay in a cold stream for hours.
The me that yearns for freedom
when the other parts of myself
rope her back in,
tie her down,
and tell her to stop being so foolish.
YOU ARE READING
Foreign Heart - A Poetry Collection
ŞiirEmotions continue to perplex me, and this is me simply trying my hardest to understand where they come from and what they mean.
