It's time to break me open and strip me down,
I'm not so sure about this.
I'll have you know I'm scared to death.
No, not of death, of living.
Of being locked in the delicate cage I'm singing in,
the kind of intricate home that brings the sunlight in but doesn't let you taste it.
I'm scared of leaving though, too.
Leaving means change, and I'm no chameleon.
I'm scared of words because they cut, they define.
It is because I believe them that makes it so real?
I don't want them to take away the things that glow, the things that shine.
I lock those away and keep them safe, but the words keep waiting for the perfect time to strike.
I'm scared of judgement, of not being enough, of trying so hard and still falling short.
I'm the bird that hesitates before jumping, not because of the height, because I know I won't fly like them.
I don't bloom as a rose, but as bleeding heart.
Are you still there?
Because I'm scared to tell you more.
I love the last two lines.
ReplyDeleteAnd the blooming bleeding heart, whatever the crap that means. I love it.
And the bird that hesitates.
Very good.
"Of being locked in the delicate cage im singing in" stole this.
ReplyDelete