Dear poets,
"It will get better"
They say rubbing my back soft like running water,until this waters covers my feet and I can't move with ease
So I spit it out in imperfect meters and rhymes we call poetry
But doesn't know the struggle of picking up words like dandelion seeds trying to not sound so broken in my poetry
But it feels like hiding in the smoke and choose to choke in suffocation with cracks simmering of the sides
The rainbow looks beautiful but maybe the sky doesn't know
So don't talk of the damn wretched beauty of scars like it's some symbolic tattoo
My scars are awful, haunted,blade markings
They scare me with the darkness that blinds it
On other days they're like marks on a brand new car
I'm blinded by the warmth and comfort of its insides
The crisply fragrance popping from the dashboard yet messy on the outside
So don't tell me to display my scars like it's some rare species on exhibitions
Don't tell me poetry is therapeutic while you keep digging through this metaphors I cloth with dark humour trying to quench the curiosity
"Why are you so sad"
"You relate with the piece"
"No that's speaks a lot about you,aren't you scared they will judge you?"
Or my favourite one..... " a deep piece"
Not knowing how deep I'm sinking in flickers of flames I can't save myself from
Without knowing that if happiness was on the menu I wouldn't pick it,I'm not used to trying meals i'm not familiar with...