no longer adapting to the world
and feeling trapped inside this person.

forms of poetry

figure me as what i am,
but what they see
is someone hurting.

silly me,
it’s so discerning:
seeing me
in front of curtains.

feeling trapped inside this person.
open windows.
i am hurting.

forms of poetry

jump my tears away.
(i’ll jump my fears away)
in hopes of learning.

no love here for they
will not adhere;
will just add fear
to play.

but, no place here today.
so, i just . . . mm . . .
so, i’m just here to stay . . .