The Color of The Heart, and The Mind- Healing.

You do not understand me,

Maybe I am wise,

Sadness,

Emptiness,

Such a silly little disguise,

For the truth penetrates me,

Spitting me out of its mouth,

Bees stinging my soft skin,

Rough hands of reality grasp onto me,

Taught a lie for too many years,

Society can look at me,

Questioning my haunting thoughts,

“You have nothing to be depressed for, What more could you want?”

To feel free,

Not the earth beneath me,

But alongside my bruised,

Scraped knees.

My heart is so heavy.

An organ;

Carrying around the weight of the world on her shoulders,

Keeping me alive,

But weighing me down,

Dragging my paralyzed legs through time,

Sinking into the rabbit hole,

The rest of the world seems to cave into my broken lungs,

When I am alone,

The need to escape posses me,

Pouring my love into you,

My soul,

Nothing new.

The way that my hands seem to hold my heart,

It always is bruised.

Not enough time,

Spinning around in circles,

Tears too dry to ever understand why,

Crawling out of my own skin,

A moth,

To a butterfly,

There is no blueprint on how to forgive,

How to revolutionize,

The same body

But a different mind,

Maybe in a different life,

I could speak to the eyes of my innocent self,

If only I had protected her.