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Meadow Sep 4
Trapped in a mindset of fantasy
Cradling beliefs with no foundation in reality.
Alone in a mind of oil
Staining all who brave my touch

Familiar faces soaked in anxiety
They stare with memories I long to forget

These glossy eyes that fear closing... moving.... shifting.... seeing...
Worlds will fall
Perceptions will alter

These words are caught in my throat

How do I say hello?
How do I keep the conversation going? Are they staring at me because they know I'm not normal. Can they see my disfigured soul hiding beneath this skin?
This deformed skin....
Do they notice that I am an imposter?
Do they see how I react alien to how they do? How I second guess each expression.

Words fall from my eyes without allowance.
The connection isn't there.

I Stare down
I drown them with every glance.
Words falling.
Making oceans of unspoken phrases.
They breathe me in.
All the words I've never spoken.

They drown in my illusions.
And run away like mad men.
To a world I cant seem to be a part of.

Trapped in a mindset of fantasy
Oil drowns me, and dilutes my words.
Taking away who I am.
My words are my life.
But I cannot speak them.

No one will ever know.
And I will never tell them.
I am Drowning in illness.
An older poem I never posted.
After 2 years of therapy, I finally feel like I'm past this. I'm in a place I NEVER thought i could be at  and I am learning to love my life, myself, and others better.
Meadow Sep 2018
White water meets white sky.

No escape from this fog bubble we call paradise.

Eyes blinded by white blankets of smoke.

We wonder what is beyond.

A white canvas to project one's desires of a far-off dream.

Anything is better than this, right?
Meadow Oct 2018
The trees you once told me to follow home...
They're gone.
You told me to burn them to my memory so that I would always be able to find my way home.
Now I'm lost, Mama.
Places of only memory now.
Outside the gate.
Stuck on the wrong side.
Nothing feels right.
Giants that once stood so tall and guarding.
Cut down as if they had never been.
Mama, I can't find my way home.
The trees are gone.
I drove past my childhood home up in the mountains.

— The End —