and, you - what if I asked about You and Yourself?

androowalsh Poems

Let me keep this simple - I do not like my face, my hair, the veins that pop and throb and burst from my hands; I do not like my voice or the way it sounds and scratches at this air, this space, this empty layer of skin and feelings that hang around me like a bog. I woke in my **** clawed at my eyes to have them open; I banged and shouted at my face to have it look differently, slightly, highly better than this but instead of doing as I commanded, it stopped and smirked and smiled at me with such god-awful bravado that as I turned it barked at me from the glass bubble that could so easily shatter, I know you - like no- one else - and that scares me the most. I was in a class, windows peaked open, and I swore I heard a voice - it was my own. I heard you, I heard you for the first time then, but you did not say “I’m scared”, you just told me, I know, I know, I know this can be scary, but that is okay, that is okay, you are okay. I am okay.