One day, I'll be a somebody.
Iam terrified of the world. Iam afraid to breathe in it is filth along with its beauty, someone please tell me the taste is sweet.
Iam alone in my head. There is this little girl inside screaming from where I haveve hidden her, she is crying, begging for me to slow down "you cannott be growing up this fast."
Iam on the sidewalk of the "fast lane." Walking slower than most, trying to get my fill of the veiw. It is ugly.
Iam seeds growing from a tree. Until the wind pulls me up, pushes me higher and higher. Until I'm abandoned in fields of vast ordinary, sinking into the warm sand.
Iam the tune that cracks glass, sharp and firm. Iam the sound everyone loves, but the brutal splitting glass no one wants to hear.
Iam the kindest girl you know, with the worst insides. Mangled, twisted then burnt to the very core, I have only ashes to fill me.
Iam stuck in a deadend town. Counting on bigger and better places to pull into veiw, pick me up and show me the not only the backroads, but the frontroads too.
Iam relying on people too much. Each person takes their own hot iron and places it cooley against my skin, holding the dead rotting pieces in place, Until their hot iron rod is gone, and the flesh falls away.
Iam that girl, fully dressed, running full speed down the middle of the road. Horns blaring all around me. I keep going, with sweat rolling down my cheeks smearing my makeup into some hideous mess, and the wind, blowing my hair into the frenzy behind me. And even though my legs are wildly throbbing and every breath feels like my very last, I keep running.
There is somewhere I just have to be, Because somewhere just has to want me.
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