Babar comes to mind as I try to avoid another conversation with an unavoidable human being.
It is just me and myself, trying to figure out resent versus escape. Am I entrapped within a body that is not mine or am I simply a soul that will remain in the wandering category?
I stop and look at the notes I have written mindlessly and stuffed into my brain. Consumption of confusion, I am a featherless bird locked in a cage-
I am naked towards the public and blow up your inbox with rage.
Stop, look, don’t listen… I swear I am too insane.
At age 5, I learned that I would grow up to be a freak on display. 5 dollars for a quick peek, but it is free if you’d care to stay.
I have enough space in my cell for multiple personalities. We can stack person atop person and call it a game.
At 16, I realized I was alive to die. Reckless amongst my aspirations, I lead most to run far and fast from me.
They leave afraid.
I’m not saying that Shirley was not a shrimp or that I can locate a dagger within a dungeon, but my voice is here for a reason,
And I’m sorry, buddy,
but I ain’t leaving
Photo by: Lindsey Lee
thepoliticsofkendra.com 