i have lived my whole life with the truth,
whether i remember it or not,
whether it is what they think or not,
whether it was real or not.
and i am still me.
i am still the same person.
i am still the same body
and i am still the same soul

my hand rests on the window of your mind,
watching from the outside.
i will look for as long as you'll have me,
clearing away the fog and fears.
how absolutely fascinating it is

and if i showed them,
which would scare people more-
the bandage or the scar?

what right do i have
to be someone in need of care

name,
class,
professor,
date.

intro.

i believe i am quite burnt out.

conclusion,
bibliography.

where did all my motivation go

the sky was grey and i couldn't feel my body.
my head was heavier than suburban slammed doors,
and the presence of sidewalk strangers
sent trembles of panic through to my core.
my ears are already pierced,
but i winced at high school football whistles
and garbage trucks
and rattling engines
and raised voices.

do you remember the museum?
do you remember burying your head in your dad's shoulder
because the world they warned you about
was too grey for your hazel eyes and golden soul?

don't forget.
it is not a world you have to live in.
you must not find safety in greyness.
there is none for you there