I.
Because to you, I am just one more
face in an ocean of blinded students.
I swim my way to the surface, and
I am at the top. The smart one. But
My eyes have grayed from glazed
over pages of studying thrust into
my persona, and my lips are white.
I go through the motions, leaving
stick straight lines in my wake, and
rattling the waves as little as I can.
To you, I am just one more face.
II.
There's a fire in me.
The lines waver into zig-zags and waves,
releasing the reigns of control.
There's a fire in me
that you, you couldn't even picture lying there all along.
Every tremor and terror is nothing of that notorious
an-xiiii-e-tyyy. It is rage.
Rage towards society, systems, all that social-ness
fuel the flames that tickle my placid grin twenty
four
seven,
threatening the grin to meld into a grimace
and the smile to weld into a scowl.
There's a fire in me
and I hate myself for loving it.
III.
Still, another layer. I call it
The Reaching---but no, that's too cringy,
isn't it? Well. Beneath all the blindess, beneath all the rage,
I cry when you cry before I even know what it's about.
I offer my my hand, but many cease to grasp it,
for its so tender youth, its small size, its innocence.
Still, it is reaching. A layer beneath more, if you could see more
deeply, perhaps you would see that
I am here, here for you.
Oh, how I wish you would see.
IV.
Below, below, below,
then why is there also a part of me
that yearns to lie and lead and play with power?
Why is there a part of me
that really, really, really wants to scream my head off and go
skydiving?
V.
Maybe I'm not this or that.
Supportive or daring.
Gentle or adventurous.
I am reaching in a thousand directions, still---
reaching to push the limits of bravery and capability.
(I will go skydiving someday, someday.
Would you, you like to come with me?) Yes,
I am reaching in a thousand directions, still---
reaching out to the little raging girl in me, in you, in all,
that could use a hand, my hands,
because I am here, I am here...
VI.
Is it possible for me, for you,
for me and you, together,
to be all these beautiful things at once?
*sigh* You tell me.
Because to you, I am just one more
face in an ocean of blinded students.
I swim my way to the surface, and
I am at the top. The smart one. But
My eyes have grayed from glazed
over pages of studying thrust into
my persona, and my lips are white.
I go through the motions, leaving
stick straight lines in my wake, and
rattling the waves as little as I can.
To you, I am just one more face.
II.
There's a fire in me.
The lines waver into zig-zags and waves,
releasing the reigns of control.
There's a fire in me
that you, you couldn't even picture lying there all along.
Every tremor and terror is nothing of that notorious
an-xiiii-e-tyyy. It is rage.
Rage towards society, systems, all that social-ness
fuel the flames that tickle my placid grin twenty
four
seven,
threatening the grin to meld into a grimace
and the smile to weld into a scowl.
There's a fire in me
and I hate myself for loving it.
III.
Still, another layer. I call it
The Reaching---but no, that's too cringy,
isn't it? Well. Beneath all the blindess, beneath all the rage,
I cry when you cry before I even know what it's about.
I offer my my hand, but many cease to grasp it,
for its so tender youth, its small size, its innocence.
Still, it is reaching. A layer beneath more, if you could see more
deeply, perhaps you would see that
I am here, here for you.
Oh, how I wish you would see.
IV.
Below, below, below,
then why is there also a part of me
that yearns to lie and lead and play with power?
Why is there a part of me
that really, really, really wants to scream my head off and go
skydiving?
V.
Maybe I'm not this or that.
Supportive or daring.
Gentle or adventurous.
I am reaching in a thousand directions, still---
reaching to push the limits of bravery and capability.
(I will go skydiving someday, someday.
Would you, you like to come with me?) Yes,
I am reaching in a thousand directions, still---
reaching out to the little raging girl in me, in you, in all,
that could use a hand, my hands,
because I am here, I am here...
VI.
Is it possible for me, for you,
for me and you, together,
to be all these beautiful things at once?
*sigh* You tell me.
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