![]() They was raised in the Ville like a lion in the jungle. Wasn’t really scared cause that’s all we knew. White dots speckle the ground and I never realized so many sheep existedīuses and trains take me places I only knew cars to take me beforeĭespite the violence it was a place that made me great. Hills mark the skyline and square patches show the division of farms like a patchwork quilt This land, however distant, is lush and green If only I could travel as far as my eyes can see by Marra Makinenīut when the mechanical wings finally breach the clouds it says, "are you ready yet? What have you to show for yourself" in debt and alone i silence myself for if I was to speak what could I say for myself? I'm afraid of my hopes and dreams, what once seemed like a lifetime away slowly creeping in….ticktock. Crippled with this feeling of anxiety that I don't belong that I'm not wanted that there's no way out for me. Afraid that there might be something that I've missed. Scared to see the world beyond the shade I've always gazed through. The stain on the carpet from way back when, You missed the dent in the paint from the arguments, The leak in the upstairs bathroom that was neglected and left to the care of a bowl,Įmptied weekly as if this chore was less than fixing it. You missed that the bottom stair was harder, That had captured my imagination as a child. The tiles in the bathroom that looked like an ogre, Longing to hear me laugh with my whole chest like I used to. It sits on my bed, duller and rougher than I rememberįilled with years worth of tears, anger and a yearning to be aged 10 forever. Now my mother can no longer pick me up like she used to and I have grown into my nose. I had it when the only emotions I could articulate were agony and joyous laughter.Įvery time we left the house that blanket had to be in my grubby little hands, Worn and weathered like a kind old woman. in fall, weĭon't look under the bed by Dorothy Eleanor The maples in our front yard flew in spring on helicopter wings. southern heat makes us grateful for southern trees. One hundred degrees in the shade : we settle into still pools of humidity, moss-ĭark, beneath live oaks. This isnt my usual content so skip if ur not into poetry :P This is poetry video I made for a contest and I felt like uploading it here too :) okbyeFollow m. ![]() I remember- playing in the luscious grass with all my friends in my class. I remember- the sudden hot summer’s rain, dancing ’round and ’round again. Open on sturdy branches of skin-smooth bark : my favorite southern trees. I remember- endless races we had to school. highways lined with kudzu-covered southern trees.įuchsia, lavender, white, light pink, purple : crape myrtle bouquets burst He's as high as a georgia pine, my father'd say, half laughing.
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