Ramblings by Elizabeth Smith

I want to escape,


my head.

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 words,

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,

from me.

From you.



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