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I'm growing up; not growing stronger. In between the time when 3 men loved me I forgot how to love myself.         I feel isolated, alone. I am dependent on a boy who does not see me. I signed a lease, so I stay. But my soul...it wanders. It wakes each morning and stretches its limbs to the ceiling and walls. It pushes on the windows and bangs on my door. Quickly I reel it in. Before the neighbors hears its screams or see the chains that hold it back. I bury it into me. I make it lay straight, flat and neat under my skin. But it battles me. From my eyes I can see it taunt me in the mirror.  It weaves my hair into knots. It whispers pretty things to pull my gaze upward. But I look down. I watch my feet.                                                                                                                                                                   I am tired. We are tired, this has to end. Maybe tomorrow I'll let my soul win. Maybe tomorrow we will both take flight and instead of whispering we will sing. I will look at the sky. I will loose myself in the stars and I fly with the birds. I will skip on clouds and pluck trees like flowers.
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
my soul
I'm growing up; not growing stronger. In between the time when 3 men loved me I forgot how to love myself.         I feel isolated, alone. I am dependent on a boy who does not see me. I signed a lease, so I stay. But my soul...it wanders. It wakes each morning and stretches its limbs to the ceiling and walls. It pushes on the windows and bangs on my door. Quickly I reel it in. Before the neighbors hears its screams or see the chains that hold it back. I bury it into me. I make it lay straight, flat and neat under my skin. But it battles me. From my eyes I can see it taunt me in the mirror.  It weaves my hair into knots. It whispers pretty things to pull my gaze upward. But I look down. I watch my feet.                                                                                                                                                                   I am tired. We are tired, this has to end. Maybe tomorrow I'll let my soul win. Maybe tomorrow we will both take flight and instead of whispering we will sing. I will look at the sky. I will loose myself in the stars and I fly with the birds. I will skip on clouds and pluck trees like flowers.
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Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
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