While the children play in the sun, it'll be all the children but one,
the shadow girl will hide away secretly decorating a place to stay.
Once so perfect, once so pure, a girl unlike others idolized by all,
Now so flawed, now so dark, a girl who hates to see the flying lights.
Everything earned, everything wanted, served in silver before her,
she wanted more, dying of hungry yet plain the dishes become.
Eyes so sweet, eyes so tender, chocolate smothered care,
lids with wrinkles, stares so bitter, a turn for a worse in smoke tears.
Love so true, written in stone, italic figures and wonderful notes,
lies so deep, they cut in more, artificial bodies and agony with all.
Drawings so neat, effects so clear, strong plus confident all in one,
scribbles on paper, ripped and torn praying 'a few pictures more'.
The reflection, the reflection its coming to me, whispering so sweet,
tenderly, it screams down my ears and looks me in the eyes, shouting "No, this can't be your life."
Broken roads, dusty concrete, nobody to be seen,
in this world of isolation, the only person I see,
is the girl of shadows and she's looking back at me.
A poem I wrote, I hope you like it.
"The Shadow Girl" - I got the idea off of a horrible night I felt so consumed by darkness all I could feel was tears and bad decisions aligning, but it was a while ago, I'm not hugely bothered by that now. The feeling anxiety, especially socially is the worst. I have diagnosed Anxiety, mostly for my attacks. I can stop breathing properly and instantly go into a breathing attack. Breathing itself is difficult which is why I often don't do much, so I've realistically, become lazy from it over the years.
The sad thing is, this poem is a reflection of my inner pain slightly of not being brave much at all. Online, I'm brave as hell, I can proudly say, I am me, here I am yet in real life it's not exactly the same. I can give the same hyper approach but most likely not talk to you much or even in some cases ever again because I get so concerned people will hate me somehow, that and it's complicated, I just seem to like isolation in some cases, but not the result of lack of compassion that comes with it. Every day as a young child I used to hide in the corner of the playground, placing leaves upon fences and even in some cases tying flowers to other flowers into a chain across it. There was also a secret passage broke through the fence that got fixed around that area. It was sweet, a young deer once came into the school ground, it was beautiful.. before it had to get taken away because a male in my year apparently had hurt the deer. That still hurts my heart to this day. The weird thing is, I seemed to always be by that, as if I was waiting for something to happen, someone to come, yet it wasn't like that. Of course I was social in class but once they let us out it was like, I was in another place, a new world, I hated socializing and sometimes I wanted to but I felt afraid that I was gonna get my hopes up to high with people and get my tiny heart shattered.
I've been fighting with my inner demons, it's been an absolute pain yet not many people I know are supportive or try to be and I just don't, see it I suppose. It's extremely complex. I find reading other people's words, actions hard to do.
I found a get-away from stress, it was deviantART, I drew there everyday, and I felt my audience grow and grow. It was perfect. I felt like for once, I could socialize with people, and not feel like, I'm a left over shallowed person. People liked ME. Not the mask I would wear, the fakery. They liked me. I started to like me too and I got a lot of stuff, a boyfriend, a course option for something I loved! It was brilliant! I loved it to bits... however, it started to crumble. I lost all of that, I lost a lot of my friends, and I lost... Me. I felt so corrupted and broken, misplaced it was horrific. I just wanted the pain to end, then... somebody close to me died, and then, another... the deaths just started tolling up. 4. My mother's younger brother, my friend's daughter who was young and meant a lot to me. My cousin, from his disability and worse of all, my grandmother who I probably spent 90% of my life with. Every memory that was good, majority of those times, she was there. Then, I lost my boyfriend because of personal issues. I felt like nothing, and sometimes I still do.
Then I found my secret. Something my mum and dad don't know.
Only friends or people know, but not my family.
When the clock strikes 3, or 4 in the morning,
the daughter disappears and they gain a son.
Male t-shirts on the floor, a badly combed hairdo.
A million girls out there, blushing at me too.
By day, I am femininity, by night I become masculinity.
All together, I have two lives.