Vegetabelle

My world is a whirlwind Of fabric and threads, Needles and pins, And sewing machines. I'll carve out my name In a song That you can't forget, And you'll keep singing. Love what I like And lust what I wear. You can have it a Step behind me.

My eyes feel like crying. I'm lying on top of the sheets, Curled up In the clothes I've stolen from you. (But it wasn't really stealing Because you forgot them Since I wore them so much.) And I miss you, But that isn't why I want to cry. There are so many things I should be doing. I should study Or read Ou finir mes devoirs. And it's exhausting you know, Getting bad grades Because I'm not a mind-reader. They tell me that In order to do what I love, I have to do lots of things I don't love, Because you won't go anywhere Without a liberal arts education. But everyone knows that A bachelor's degree isn't impressive anymore. Come back when y

You try pin me With your gilded letters, And cover me With your vocabulary words, But I can sew my own clothes, And I will not be So easily Defined.

Maybe I am meant To only sing Other people's hearts, And keep my own Contained in Back-shelf memoirs, Not to see the light, Let alone reverberate Into waiting hands Performed from a stage.

I feel empty and depleted. I am drained and so defeated. I have nothing left. It seems my heart wasn't enough. Days are years with little sleeping You say my character is steeping. I have bled to fill Your fountain pens. Dissect me again. I'm burning out. Back away. I need space. I need oxygen. If you want the truth Then start listening, Because I can't scream much louder. You have asked too much And I'm drying up. I'm reduced to embers. But if you would just leave Me room to breathe, Then maybe I could recover. I'm burning out. Back away. I need space. I need oxygen. If you want the truth Then start listening, Because I can't scream much

I was full of words. I breathed them in And they danced On my tongue, But it was too soon To free them, So I held my breath. They burned their way Into my lungs, Trying to claw themselves Out of my chest But I choked them back, And they suffocated.

You call yourself A rebel with a cause; A unique voice against your oppressors; A heart with a song worth hearing, But the word-petals you throw Down in front of your own feet Are childish, Flower Girl. Pick up those palm branches. You can walk on the ground Just like the rest of us, Your Holiness. You aren't a savior.

You're just like everybody else, Snowflake. I was afraid of that, But I gave you a piece of my heart anyway. It happens, whether you want it to Or not, you know, When you stay up all night Telling all your secrets; When you trust people; When you believe in them. And though I couldn't entertain the thought, I couldn't help but fall in love a little. When I told you that I stand in the periphery, You were so shocked- (How could someone so vibrant Not be the very sun?) So surprised and appalled When I told you that people get bored of me, But it's been two months, And you've already moved on Four times.