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.
About the Creator
Isabel Siobhan
21 / student / criminology / history / Colorado / improviser / poet / scorpio / spooky girl
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