Anxiety

Thu, 08/28/2014 - 20:27 -- knoc0ut

Location

Crayons on the ground,

Pages from a coloring book sprawled on the floor.

It's just me,

Little me.

A Mexican household with strict parents,

A slipper, or a stick, or just a hand

was our teacher.

My sister learned

and I got front row seat.

From then I no longer opened my mouth.

My home is my temple.

 

No. 2 pencils on the ground,

Blank paper sprawled on the floor.

It's just me,

Little me.

My mother has gotten old,

Our teacher has left,

but the impression lasts,

but only on me.

What is a friend?

Everyone is scary and I don't speak.

My home is my sanctuary.

This is fine.

 

Paint tubes on the ground,

Brushes sprawled on the floor.

It's just me,

Little me.

I'm lonely, too lonely.

Why can't I talk?

Why do I only laugh and talk

when no one is around.

I need a friend or a lover.

Someone nears, my heart pounds.

My home is hell.

Poisonous.

It's not okay.

 

Drawing tablet on the ground,

Pen tips sprawled on the floor.

It's just me,

Little me.

I took a risk and will work hard.

I can't wait for the day,

I can have a good conversation.

My home is no longer available.

we'll find a way,

to stop the anxiety.

Comments

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