This is what my first 2 weeks of high school has been/felt like.
I'm falling from a window,
Do you see?
To the boy in the library,
And the girl with the piercing,
Do you see?
I'm not thrusting myself to the rocks,
Not to the rocks and volatile sea.
Not to some beautiful facade,
Or glorified insanity.
No, I lost my balance,
Looking at the world below the top floor.
I broke the glass,
And shattered reflections,
Shattered purpose, reality,
And the ability to be.
Will you know,
That for all my silence,
I'm trying to call out?
I'm trying to learn how to speak.
But there are moments,
Where I look away from the sky,
And wait, subdued,
For the hard concrete.
When I reach the pavement,
Will it be scary,
Or soothing when the cold spreads over me?
What if I become fragments,
Nothing but ugly pieces,
With thoughts still raging inremmitingly?
I'm not always sure
If you'll catch me in time,
Lessen the impact,
Or be there when I fall.
Just know the answer
To 'what happened here?'
And promise me, please,
Not to be those who ask
But I'm curious.
Will I be the girl who fell from the building,
Or the girl who jumped to sea?
Help me not be a story, though.
Instead, make this one of our bad memories.
Help me confirm my importance,
Grab my shoulder,
Spin me around,
And let yourself tell me not to leave.
