I'm not greedy
I'm not indecisive
I'm not a ****
I'm not loose with my heart and my mind and my body
Denial is a wooden box I locked myself into at night to quiet the voices that cut me down and let me pretend I wasn't what I thought I was
the wooden box that kept my heart from feeling for more than one face
who are you to tell me who I am and what I love
and who are you to tell me my heart is wrong
I'm not unlovable but **** am I so tired of feeling like I will never be good enough for you who loves one face and not another
I am so tired of being too straight for a girl but too *** for a man and anything outside that box
I am enough and I have nothing more to prove.
Might seem silly to some but its hard to love when everyone thinks you're a phase nobody should waste time on
We have incentive to collect our fears,
replace them with hope in the incoming years.
But we tie them off and leave them alone;
stash them away in the deepest parts of our bones.
Stamp them in blood, or tears we forgot,
switch off the trauma and train of our thoughts.
The tracks mail letters, to the backs of our minds;
a land unknown from the depth of our blinds.
I promise you, this ill way of thinking,
doesn't solve the problem, nor help it sink in.
Someone will find them,
somehow deny them,
for the points you could've made;
and the pain you couldn't take-
I feel like pain, or trauma gets invalidated when we don't speak up about it immediately. I also feel like it also gets invalidated if people don't get it; I feel like i tend to hide my pain in fear of laughter.
All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
Here I am
For my misuses
Of any likeness
— The End —