Oh how shadily you came to me, wild and impatient, eyes full of wonderment, styles in black and green and brown. And your hair was sort of red colored, like that bella street performer, the child who danced and danced and danced her days and wrinkles away. Her pigment sort of orange and green, probably too obscene for the old rich folks who's eyes did gleam and side with frustration. But you who came in feral disguise, do hide your claws, in these ribbed sides, tears I cried and stretched away to find conformity, and our calculations were only slightly off that day. So I walked on in unfamiliar streets backed by dealers, their sneaky impressions left in shadows. I could not be bothered with raging winds or sad songs sung after these dying days. I could but feel you on my shoulders and naught else then.
With hours passed I found your presence fully submerged and my being in nervousness, gradually lifted guards and found u easily consumed. So now I promote thee, shelter thee in sadness, and yet with gladness sing thy song. Who could know in childhood screaming all your being can be so gently bound,
I could say I’m not afraid, but that is lies. "
****wrote this after a fight with my brother in Barcelona, I think in a way I was accepting a lot of the doubts and fears that I have of myself, my fears that I hurt people without trying once again confirmed, and yet what could I do? Lord knows I try in my way, but what else is there to do except accept it..
I walked through the dark streets and absorbed them. Fear and pain, frustration and hurt are with me always, always the worry always… but in accepting, the ability to work with it. So I remember starting this poem realizing the beauty of the situation, the beauty of this demon, who with wild and colorful being hurts and hurts, I’d been running for so long from these fears… but once accepted once the claws are in, might as well work with it. Make it beautiful****
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