She As In Me?

She As In Me? - A Poem from "Her Deepest Witihins" novel coming soon. 

 

 

 

 

Pain and sinful, maybe she's just "blissful"

Plain and simple, maybe I'm- no, she's, just that little. 
Wait, no, people will think she's talking about her body type because she's far from little.

"Girl, you're just thick", they say. 
She feels a bit free and wears a crop top
Maybe a mini skirt, 
Pause." girl you can't wear that."
Pitiful 
She feels a bit shameful
It's pretty painful.

Hide it with a smile and fake some confidence,  most likely she'll find the commonness. 
It's common, hide it with a smile, nobody will know. 
It's true because nobody cares.

Ambitious, she is but in a strange stare. 
She has hopes and dreams but she withholds dire.
Lonely and she is too, alone but who's really there? 
That's the point, nobody is there.

These similarities are promising too deep.  
Maybe I am her, because she could be me. 
Maybe she is me.
And I am her. 
We share the same constant blurs
Ironically, we want to achieve, have love and happiness. 
But within ourselves that is counted as just pure comedy.

Mix some words, allure the readers. 
She and I are just too similar. 
Quick question, where's our key signature?

She wakes up joyful, eager to change. 
But the map is confusing and she creates a delay. 
Her future is bright as can be, so close she tries to grasp.

She openly sours down the conversation, maybe someone will care.
She finds it as a coping cry for help. Hoping that somebody will finally understand.
They're oblivious to the script written in between the lines, 
They reply with "lol" 
Her voice is stuck and she feels 
Empty
And alone.

Get her out of her shell, she'll be that girl that'll always talk. 
She and i notice everything. 
We're bound to unlock. 
Once you show lack of interest. 
Feeling like 'too much' can feel like a hassle. 
You'll once wonder what happen.

Now don't think this is over, 
She and I have so much time left.

I wake up and smile, I'm going to be alright. 
Think about it again and I write. 
Thoughts are better on paper, they say.
She knew that, I knew that. 
Inspired as can be. How to stem away from the self doubt. 
Hard question, Idle.

Ambitious, I am but in a strange stare. 
I have hopes 
(I have hopes!) 
and dreams 
(I most most definitely have dreams) but, I  withholds dire. 
Lonely and I am too, alone but who's really there? 
That's the point, nobody is there.

Best believe these thoughts are similar. 
Because she and I can be just as blissful, sinful or even simple. 
Are we plain or do we just withhold pain?

Sometimes you'll have to read between the lines. 

This poem is about: 
Me

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741