i could just run away from the feelings
stuffed in a ***** little bottle
however the actions of others are not determined my the restless beating of my heart.
first went the girl with the long blonde hair
guns and helicopters and doctors' appointments
her backpack was passed around, making it lighter when it returned.
the tall boy opened his mouth next
tumors and legs and feeling alone
his package, too, was passed around for a lighter carry.
the girl with the round glasses looked up
police and fathers and lost purity
everyone took from her heavy bag to loosen the load.
the thin boy with the cuts spoke too
custody and friends and playdates
his luggage was considerably lighter by the time it came back.
the short girl with the large jacket decided to go
voices and death and silence
her satchel was not as full when it was placed back in her trembling hands.
finally, words jumbled at my lips
toxicity. guilt. shame.
i couldn't hold back, my pack was too heavy
anxiety. fear. dread.
i had to take some weight off of me
anger. rage. hurt.
i opened my eyes, expecting pools of disgust on their faces
instead i see i thousand, shattered, mirrors staring back at me.
in theatre, we once sat in a circle and shared our troubles and our utmost deep thoughts. it was truly an experience for me. i felt like i could trust them. talking to them felt like they could see right through me. i learned so much about people. so this is for the girl with the long blonde hair, the tall boy, the girl with the round glasses, the thin boy with the cuts, and the short girl with the large jacket. your stories touched me so much. i'm glad you trusted me enough to share something so personal with me.
