A piece called butterflies

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A piece called butterflies

To these people I give all my time and then some..

I find words to rhyme, my uncle told me that I have to release all the pain, let the tears run like a flood, they keep me safe.

Let them flow away, so the anger doesn’t have a home to stay in

Because I’d rather not be wrapped in only emotion.

They say I think too much, I care too much.

Should I then not, sophisticate my own thoughts ? Should I then be numb ?

Would I then be, everything that you want?

There goes my validation…

I searched for in every stranger and every friend.

The word I use, most times forgetting the actual meaning.

And maybe this is too raw, do I then pretend that I do not yell at God?

That I don’t beg him to fix this world and heal the girl that is broken inside.

That I don’t get on my knees and scream because another person I knew took their own life?

That I don’t drown in tears because it’s that time of year again?

Trauma stuck in the bones. The cold of December makes sure that I will never forget.

I miss their faces, but it’s too late to call.

I’ve been wanting to send him a letter, but I always stall.

Do I pretend to be squeaky clean?

Because the pressure of reaching for perfection are bursting from the seams.

Most people don’t listen to understand me or you, because there’s always a right and a wrong,

A You vs me, subjective truth.

And there were moments when you held me and I felt new, I felt warmth, affection and intimacy from you.

But you were just a bandaid to the wound that is a broken body.

Too small to cover every surface of skin.

I’m too kind, easily accessible.

A fool who yearns to be wise.

“You must be out of your mind” they say and I am.

Because love is beautiful and all, but I want you to know what it feels like to fall and to be broken but proud.

Because you don’t have to have it all figured out.

You don’t have to be close to whole.

I don’t think these moments last forever, at least I hope they don’t.

A dull ache that swells every time you let your mind wander.

But how else do we get our wings, if we don’t start out as caterpillars…

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