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The List

For Those Not On It

By Isabel SiobhanPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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This is for the ones not on the list.

This is for the ones who sit alone in crowded classrooms,

I see you

this is for the ones who scribble silent poetry into worn notebooks

I hear you

This is for the ones who wish they could cry

they cannot

the emptiness has pervaded their bodies making them unable to get out of bed

nothing but kite structures skin like tissue paper stretched over a framework of bone

This is for the girl whose eyes were beautiful her words liquid

Everyone envied her that poise and gaiety, her confidence and assuredness

She showed me her fresh scars covered up by clothing where no one could see them

she thought it was silly that a boy could make her feel this way

It should be a crime to dismiss the pain of others like that

This is for the boy who grew up in a loving family sure, maybe they worried over a few bills but they always had enough to eat

He was the star of every show of every day

glittering crazy orb lightning

he told me about the pills he'd been taking,

they made him feel smarter and thinner and more like he belonged

This is for the ones who don't want the stigma of "at risk" placed upon them, there are too many connotations

no one wants to feel like an experiment gone wrong.

So they hole it up, lock it in, hide the pain, it's not important.

This is for the ones whose only comforts are the dizzy times

For the ones who can't remember who they are anymore because it feels as if someone else took it with them when they walked away

This is for the quiet sufferers.

I want you to know

That someday you'll read a book that will change your life and

That there's great healing power in great music

Let it fill you

I want to convey to you the feeling of peace that I feel when I hear the trains going by at night

That lonely sound that echoes like

"Everything is fine, the world is still here"

I want to show you illuminated votive candles in windowsills

Because life keeps moving, moving

Whether we want it to or not

whether it feels as if it should or not

And every poem is always a little unfinished

I want you to know these things that I'm not even sure I know myself

Trying hard to articulate the good feelings

Maybe bittersweet.

Maybe

Words

Fail

Sometimes

I don't have all the answers

Hell,

I'm not sure I have any at all

But I want you to know

You who feel translucent, alone

I see you

Quiet sufferers

I hear you.

inspirational
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About the Creator

Isabel Siobhan

21 / student / criminology / history / Colorado / improviser / poet / scorpio / spooky girl

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