There’s a story here, somewhere buried deep,
of a girl afraid of what she’s seen.
She didnt know how to live.
She didnt know how to think.
She didnt know how to be,
so please be kind when dealing with me.
Thoughts are second,
and words come first.
Emotions are hidden,
and shes been lost
too many times and too many ways.
She will always come back at her own pace,
and she does it a lot more often these days.
So she’ll be back.
She’ll be here.
And she will be there for you always dear.
This is not yours
This small victory is mine
But thank you to the universe
For sending you to my side
Inspiration comes in all different ways
You’ve been a refreshing wind each and every day
A guide with a calm touch
A reminder of a dream
An alarm I didnt set
This is not yours
Not this victory
But thank you for reminding me
Of me
I could be anywhere, but I’m here.
With you all
told we weren’t worthy
This the Island of Misfit Souls!
All pushed away, and tried, and forgotten.
How dare we show our smiles so blatantly.
How dare we be happy when they said
we couldn’t deserve it,
when we didn’t earn it,
when we were born wrong.
How dare we dance with the faeries
in their circles of light.
How dare we dance alongside our demons tonight.
How dare we to exist at all.
In this our island of salvation,
we found each other,
us fractured souls.
And slowly we mend,
and slowly we glow,
and slowly we fight the harsh words.
The cruelty
the hatred we lived through so long ago.
We were born perfect
created in magic.
Not to be what they wanted
but to be wanted for what we are.
And that is far more than enough
and as worthy as any star
to shine
and glow
and to be flawless in its splendor
only us other souls can know.
The notes were from a good night. An entire pile of memories from an amazing summer. A summer that ended so abruptly. The notes and pieces of flower decorations became the memories of the disaster. They now carried with them thoughts of thrashing, screaming, and glass shattering. They now represent what had been lost. What I once had. They remind me of the betrayal. They remind me of the people who said they would be there forever. But their idea of forever stopped when the first thin went wrong. The notes remind me of friends who weren’t friends and warm summer nights.
I try to focus on the good now.
©C. O’Connor
The Rant 