I’m not pretty enough.
I will one day be left behind
I’ll never be able to express myself.
I’m a balloon that loses its air unnoticeably.
Emotionless. Formless. Lifeless.
I am scared that all I will feel is devastation,
brought on by the hurricane of emotions
to which there is no end.
I am uncomfortable in these unshared rooms like boxes.
I do not feel at home in my own house.
The only place I belong is the closet.
I’m scared, for their hollowed, godly eyes are causing me harm.
Their dark Pupils surrounded by dark Sights
seeping into my arms.
I’m scared of their eyes,
the way they bore into me.
What shall I do?
I’m scared that I too have drills for eyes.
© 2016, Quiyet Brul