Breath & Ink

I think she should’ve known this would happen

When that straight-A girl became the one 

who’d sneak out past midnight,

And the cries turned to hindsight.
 

When the person that her mother knew so well, 

Became a stranger in her own shell.

I think she should’ve known this would happen

When she who knew nothing about being gay—

became one who kissed another girl,

Liked it, 

and it became her whole world—

That same world that became nothing within an instant

Yet she persisted 

Of keeping this love alive

When really this whole idea of love has run very dry.
 

I think she should’ve known this would happen,

When she didn’t know what else to do, 

Except bleed her pen onto paper like a wound.

When her mind grew heavy—

though it was already.

And even after all of those cries past the hours,

While everyone else is like sleeping towers

Dreaming of dancing in fields of flowers,

All of these voices echo around devours,

Yet she’s the one who overpowers;

Because someone else thought the same,

Suddenly she’s the one who should be ashamed.

The one to be blamed, 

the one to be drained,

the one who should be engulfed in flames.

But who says he,

wasn’t lying about those voices,

And maybe it was his own choices,

To manipulate her more,

For his own starting of a war. 

That yet still hasn’t ended—Maybe that was intended

I think she should’ve known this would happen

When she didn’t know how else to feel,

And all her emotions would make her peel,

Like she didn't have some sort of ideal;

When she couldn’t eat a single meal,

Cause of all the guilt she’d conceal.
 

I think she should’ve known this would happen,

When she didn’t even feel real

Like what the hell was her deal?

When all she could produce was a frown,

She didn’t feel like anyone wanted her around.

And even after all that emotional energy,

All she felt like was an accessory,

Going round and round like a penalty,

Right back to elementary,

Trapped in her own twisted game of jeopardy.

Except she needs to get every answer right.

It’s her life of fight or flight.

All her doubts in her brain are on sight

So,

She writes.

But who said no one else would read

Those private notes,

To see her chasing ghosts.

To see her fighting demons,

Maybe she has her reasons,

For not telling you all of this,

So why do you make it your life's mission to dismiss?

To blame her for feeling this way.

The rules you made are shades of gray,

As they shift when you are in her place.

Like another new court case.

Except even her own lawyer isn’t on her side,

And all you take is pride.

Of being right instead of questioning or asking her if she’s okay

Does it really have to be so hard to tell you what she wants to say? 

But even if you did ask her she couldn’t be honest,

Because she has to be modest.

When you’d go on and on about how much you sympathize with her well-being,

Yet all you are doing is disagreeing.

When you just had to make comments about any little thing,

Like she’s a puppet and you just had to pull all the strings.

I think she should’ve known this would happen

When even though you don’t know it, it worked more than it should’ve,

Maybe she could’ve 

Resisted it more,

But these waves of your opinions coming to the shore, 

When they wash her away.

And her own decay.

But she always has to change how she felt,

Like when you have to adjust a belt.

Shifted constantly with expectations—weighted like chains

But she writes, she breathes, and she remains.