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francisco-dhPoems
I am The boy who walks with his head down low Blocking the white static that leaks from their mouths with the sounds I create with my mind. I never look people in the eye not because I am afraid but because if they look into mine they will see all the secrets and all the pain. Shadows of my past, a past not worth mentioning. I am The girl who stares at her reflection and only sees the imperfection hanging from her sides. I cover my arms with black sweaters  to hide the rough edges, the roads that will lead to a damaged heart. I stare at the ceiling and see a world beyond my reach and the beatings of reality come and bruise my skin. I am The child who looks up to the one's who are "right" and mimic them, I am their puppet. I see the world with colors. The word "why" is always on the tip of my tongue always wanting to come out like some popper. I am too young to know what the world is really like so I stay safe in the comforts of my imagination. I am the stranger who longs to be heard but can never make a sound. My voice is a series of silent syllables. I am.....
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Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
I am..
I am The boy who walks with his head down low Blocking the white static that leaks from their mouths with the sounds I create with my mind. I never look people in the eye not because I am afraid but because if they look into mine they will see all the secrets and all the pain. Shadows of my past, a past not worth mentioning. I am The girl who stares at her reflection and only sees the imperfection hanging from her sides. I cover my arms with black sweaters  to hide the rough edges, the roads that will lead to a damaged heart. I stare at the ceiling and see a world beyond my reach and the beatings of reality come and bruise my skin. I am The child who looks up to the one's who are "right" and mimic them, I am their puppet. I see the world with colors. The word "why" is always on the tip of my tongue always wanting to come out like some popper. I am too young to know what the world is really like so I stay safe in the comforts of my imagination. I am the stranger who longs to be heard but can never make a sound. My voice is a series of silent syllables. I am.....
francisco-dh
Written by
francisco-dh
28/Cisgender Male/American
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
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