I’ve always wondered
What it’s like to be myself
Openly and honest
And not hiding behind bookshelves
Waiting for someone to see
And let me into their heart.
A guy is knocking
At the front door again
Asking for that little girl
That I once was
And screaming at me
To go hide again
Behind those bookshelves
Because how dare I try
To be myself.
my breakfast cereal used to turn soggy in milk,
and now the flavors blend like a rainbow,
and every time i watch that show,
i wonder what it would be like if i was in your arms,
a black cat crossed the street
as i was speeding down it,
i came to a halt,
but it was already gone.
i guess that it's lucky:
i didn't kill the cat,
but as i stepped out to look where it stood,
Is it so wrong for you to look at me?
Is it so bad to smile my way?
You act like I'm untouchable, a flea,
But yet you kiss me whispers and my hair you play.
Comments
I really love this poem, it's short but well encapsulates and portrays the concept, I wish I had a word for it but I don't, but I totally know what that's like. It's a very beautiful short poem.
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