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Meadow Sep 2019
Trapped in a mindset of fantasy
Cradling beliefs with no foundation in reality.
Alone in a mind of oil
Staining all who brave my touch

Familiar faces soaked in anxiety
They stare with memories I long to forget

These glossy eyes that fear closing... moving.... shifting.... seeing...
Worlds will fall
Perceptions will alter

These words are caught in my throat
Festering

How do I say hello?
How do I keep the conversation going? Are they staring at me because they know I'm not normal. Can they see my disfigured soul hiding beneath this skin?
This deformed skin....
Do they notice that I am an imposter?
Do they see how I react alien to how they do? How I second guess each expression.

Words fall from my eyes without allowance.
The connection isn't there.

I Stare down
I drown them with every glance.
Words falling.
Flooding.
Making oceans of unspoken phrases.
Needs.
They breathe me in.
All the words I've never spoken.

They drown in my illusions.
And run away like mad men.
To a world I cant seem to be a part of.

Trapped in a mindset of fantasy
Oil drowns me, and dilutes my words.
Taking away who I am.
My words are my life.
But I cannot speak them.

No one will ever know.
And I will never tell them.
I am Drowning in illness.
________
An older poem I never posted.
After 2 years of therapy, I finally feel like I'm past this. I'm in a place I NEVER thought i could be at  and I am learning to love my life, myself, and others better.
Meadow Aug 2019
She speaks.
Content misshapen. Ill-crafted.
She's a little off, but she continues to share.

It begins with shifting eyes,
making sure it's ok to share this feeling of superiority
with this, small snickers escape curled lips
Social Exclusion a form of weeding out those that are of "lesser" value.

I don't want to participate.
I don't want to wear this mask.
It hurts my face, and pulls at my hair.

Wide eyes expressing judgement.
I don't look into them.
I look down.
In a room of "normal people"
they judge her.

I don't want to participate.
I want to listen. To decode her language. Learn the way she speaks.
I want to defend.
I want to rip these masks off these people who will tell you you're perfect then slander you when absent.
I don't want to participate.
I don't understand how THIS is ok in this sensitive world where nothing else is.
First day back at school.
I don't like the way we act with another. High and mighty we think we are, but when we see someone that doesn't belong we're so quick to make fun. Desperately seeking social approval, and inclusion at the expense of others.

Raw thoughts after a long day.
Meadow Aug 2019
Summer is coming soon to an end.
A bittersweet summer.
One that has aged me to wise. Solemnly, I stand welcoming and allowing.
Loosened grips, blood returns to white knuckles.
Numbed fear, but wild excitement.
Random 1 minute poem: raw
Meadow Apr 2019
He is the sun if it ever took human form.
Radiant and warm

You treated his love as if it were a heat storm.
As if his love were burning you from the inside.
You mistook his intensity, and you let it suffocate you.

You tried to put out the fire.
As smoke seeped from your painted smile, you subdued him.

You tried to put out the sun.

But I...
I found him
His flame dimmed.
Under the artificial assumption, his light was too much.

He came to me trying to cover that intensity.

But I thought...
Why fit the sun in a lantern?
When it could light the world.

My love like fertile earth.
Smothered with rich soil.
Saplings reached for that warmth of him.
I wanted all of him.
A lantern wouldn't do.

We planted our seeds in moments.
And well nourished they grew.

Many moons came to pass, but now I have before me a garden of overgrowth.
Watered by our tears. Nourished by passion. Warmed by our love, and given life through our memories.

He is larger than life.
He is bold and bright and the light in my sky.
& I will tend to this garden and bathe in his sun.
He is my home, my light, and my reason.

You tried to put out the fire,
but now he is the sun.
Some raw thoughts that had been sitting in my memo's for a few months.
Meadow Oct 2018
Trapped in a mindset of fantasy.
Cradling beliefs with no foundation in reality.
Alone in a mind of oil.
Staining all who brave my touch.
Familiar faces soaked in anxiety.
They stare with memories I long to forget.
These glossy eyes that fear closing.
Moving.
Shifting.
Seeing.
Worlds will fall.
Perceptions will alter.
These words are caught in my throat.
Festering.

How do I say Hello?
How do I keep the conversation going?
Are they staring at me because they know I'm not normal?
Can they see my disfigured soul hiding beneath this skin?
This deformed skin...
Do they notice that I am an imposter?
Do they see how I react alien to how they do?
How I second guess each expression?

Words fall from my eyes without allowance.
The connection isn't there.
I stare down.
Drowning them with every glance.
Words fall.
Flooding.
Making oceans of unspoken phrases.
Needs.
They breathe me in.
All the words I've never spoken.
They drown in my delusions.
And run away like mad men.
To a world, I can't seem to be a part of.

Trapped in a mindset of fantasy.
Oil drowns me and dilutes my words.
Taking away who I am.

My words are my life.
But, I cannot speak them.
Meadow Oct 2018
The trees you once told me to follow home...
They're gone.
You told me to burn them to my memory so that I would always be able to find my way home.
Now I'm lost, Mama.
Places of only memory now.
Outside the gate.
Stuck on the wrong side.
Nothing feels right.
Giants that once stood so tall and guarding.
Cut down as if they had never been.
Mama, I can't find my way home.
The trees are gone.
I drove past my childhood home up in the mountains.
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