writing to breathe

there is no panic.
we missed the bus
and I felt nothing

something has changed

there is no panic
I’m not memorising
I’m not doing it for fun.
(but I couldn’t help ordering the paints
in a rainbow. how could anyone?)

I felt this anger
but bit it back
my opinion is not necessary in this discussion.
not wanted, not given.

something is different

I plaited my hair in a rope
looking like a little girl
I’m just slightly mad, cynical, devious perhaps
confused maybe
definitely sad

writing to breathe

I’m sure there are plenty out there
staring, alone
nobody to understand
in pain
desperately hiding behind those eyes of theirs

we don’t have much
we’re not letting you see us
we somehow think it’s good
to just deny everything
and wait for the problem to go away.

eeeverybody knows that doesn’t work, right? ha ha ha, right.

I’m writing to breathe.

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