Ramblings by Elizabeth Smith
I want to escape,
Where everyone knows my name.
They say, “I feel you.”
I’m no longer a stranger.
Wearing a black wool coat can get hot.
I would prefer a concrete shield.
Sometimes I want it to make me invisible.
Sometimes I want to be seen, but not heard.
Sometimes I want to look down.
They nick my skin,
the sour faces.
Bitter fruit is all we seem to yield anymore.
I wanted to believe there was joy.
I wanted to believe I could get better,
Just let me go,
There, I am safe,