Writing

The morning arrives like a door left open—but today, you notice the draft.

There’s a pain

From my brain

When I lie

And when I wake.

And there's no escape

From the terrifying pain.

Have you felt

I love the rain

The way it sounds

As it splashes the ground

And beats against my roof

Bringing new life

But 

On the first warm night of spring

I lie on my bed with my window open

The cool breeze skates over my skin

Leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake

I fear that I lied to you, straight to your face

When you looked me in the eyes and asked

If I was ok, how I was doing

And I lied, straight to your face

There is nothing wrong with

wearing ribbons in your hair and

twirling in your plaid uniform skirt and

dressing like a tomboy sometimes and

refusing to let anyone tell you not to

wear your heart on your sleeve;