Will I always be stuck
In the in-between?
In between happiness
And rock-bottom.
Some sort of melancholy that
Time doesn’t know how to heal.
It feels as though I am always
Stuck on the outside,
Like there is a glass wall,
And my screams are never heard.
What they see is silence
When the bones inside me rot.
The bugs crawl in my mouth
And I tell them,
“Eat me. Maybe then,
They will notice what it looks like
To hurt.” Maybe then,
They will see the true face of pain.
Mother Nature will open
Her windows for me,
Prop the door with
A gold-plated wedge.
“Come,” she will say,
“Be with me and the birds
As they eat away your physicality.
Then your truth will be what is left,
And I will let your soul
Cry in my arms,
When they see
What they have created.”
I look up at the sky.
It is raining,
Wolves and mountain lions
Pouring down like lemonade
On a summer’s day.
“Thank you,” I whisper,
As I melt away into the earth
And become the rot
I was meant to be
From the beginning.