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Recovered
February 11, 2015
I only break down while enclosed
Of earth’s tears
And a cotton curtain
I can not be seen.
The weakness is skinned
Of a house of hierarchy.
I sit down and
Caress my beaten up knees
The blood runs down my finger
And the bruises
Add a little color to the linger.
With water shouting of cleanliness
The pale skin cries
An appearance.
I not only cry in the
Shower to release the tension,
But to have the tears
Masked of a
Liquid laughing gas.
© Brittan S., Claremont, CA
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I had found this poem in my journal from middle school. This was one of my first ever written. I read it for the first time in about five years and I was amazed at how I captured emotion at such a young age and how far I have come since then.