But I’ve Never Owned a Raincoat
I’ve never owned a raincoat.
Tears have always hit the cloth on my chest.
When I want to to warm up the world,
I continue to shake.
I’ve become dampened.
Falling into puddles repeatedly just shows how I bruise.
Not having the protection and guidance caused my bones to ache.
Whenever there’s someone I hope to reach, they always seem to go away.
In a time where I’m supposed to know myself, it feels like I’m all gone.
Though I’m right here and capable, I cannot find a way to speak to anyone else at all.
Why do I scream at people who display that they are deaf?
Who push me, put me away, and poke their fingers into my heart.
Each jab is like a shard piercing its way through.
I know the world thinks it’s a sin for merely loving you.
Though I keep shivering and ripping this all apart, it seems I might be the one without a smidgen of depth.
See, I’ve never owned a raincoat,
simply because it feels wrong.
I shouldn’t wear something that just doesn’t belong.
Mar 23, 2018
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