Song of this part:
"Dream"- Priscilla Ahn
Imagine yourself as a shell of nervousness. That your purity turns contaminated and every thought that you ever own is violated from the public.
* * * * * *
Sometimes...
I feel as though I'm in
My own little bubble
My own little world,
Walking around,
With no one to notice that I have
Secrets,
Lies,
History,
That live past the only thinning of a surface,
To be popped any second
If you dare try to come too close of my world.
Sometimes...
Even the greatest of my friends still make me cry
Rivers,
That can forever lead me back to the sweet
Cozy bed
Of mine
Of which I can relax
And stare at the colors of my TV,
With dimmed lights,
Knowing that the outside world is not where I belong.
Only the mauve,
Silk
Sheets of my bed
Invite and welcome me.
Sometimes...
I can't sleep.
Thinking of what lies ahead tomorrow.
Knowing that my family will be un-proud of my character
My "friends" won't notice my bitterness.
The teachers will be weirded of my attempts into trying happiness.
The random professions on the street will make assumptions of who I am,
And that one wrong move-
One
Wrong
Move
Will forever embed itself
Into the history of tomorrow.
Sometimes...
I don't have a bubble.
I'm being dissected by the malice eyes of the public
Their eyes
All eyes
Are on me.
The eyes of the people who are accustomed to the perfect.
The people that hold words
That can make
Third degree burns on my heart.
Sometimes...
There are no "sometimes"
It turns to "always", instead.
And the history of tomorrow will become
Every
Single
Day.
And my privacy,
My innocence,
Is taken from the ideas
Molested,
Ingested,
Inside me.
YOU ARE READING
Pain Reliever
Random"Me? Well, I'm well. Well, I mean I'm in hell. Well, I still have my health- At least that's what they tell me If wellness is this, what in hell's name is sickness?"
