There is no escape
for a day of relief.
Where I can go to
just be me, and breath.
Eyes are on me
in every moment
They hold me down
My soul is bent
Who is it, anyway?
What does it even want of today?
And if the world went away
What would it be brave enough to say?
I can't grow
from what I don't know
What is special, if anything?
Am I really this slow?
Can I really not flow?
Can I even really sing?
Look away from me,
There is nothing here.
It is a barren landscape.
A home with no walls
is not a home at all,
and I don't even contain the shape.
My eyes are only windows
that let in the rain
and my heart a broken gate
that can't stop the pain
and my feet can't move
from all the shame
and my soul is just too tired
to want anything anyway.
So whatever they thought they held for me;
I understand when they just give it away.
When they hold up the beauty
and say "Look, it is what I see!"
And I stand there with a resigned smile,
because I know it takes just a little while
for them to take it back from me, and give it away.
It is okay
It is okay, I know.
I am too slow.
I do not flow.
And a home with no walls,
is not a home at all.
-aq/lesnspired
