Writing

I run and I run and I run. 

I don’t know which route to take. 

The wrong one, and I just might break.

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As a kid I would sit and listen to the rain, 

Thinking of Mother Earth’s pain.

I knew our climate was rising, 

My worry went ignored, unsurprising. 

April, my admiral, 

lighten my wings with your shrill whistle, 

Every day 

I feel like I am constantly being watched.

Judged

And looked down upon.

I know that this might not be true 

But I feel the same regardless.

Because that is human nature.

We are all born containing a roll of wool

Soundlessly, mine intertwined with yours

My other half

Merged and fused 

Not on a leash nor a chain 

A delicate soft lace