Life is God’s gift to you. What’re you going to do with it? Only say you love it when everyone is watching Re-gifting isn’t an option You have it whether you want it or not. What’re you going to do with it? Oh, so you don’t want it? Too bad. There’s only one way out but what will They say? They’ll call you weak, misunderstood, you’ll be psycho analyzed, so you keep it. Tie it around your neck like a chain decorate it with gold and diamonds it glitters back at you in the mirror an illusion. You try and polish it, make it gleam. It’s a weight that pulls you down. I can tell you don’t want to be here but you’re here. So you might as well make the most of it. ~ Song of the Day:
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People always used to call me a bird. A cute little bird “You eat like a bird.” When I picked at my food or only ate a plate full of hors d’œuvres vegetables, you know, raw broccoli and celery and cherry tomatoes. "You're so small like a bird." Because I wasn't obese like my cousins, my thin frame standing out in the forced family photos. My grandmother used to call me a bird when I was younger because of the way I walked on my tip toes when I first woke up. Every-time I woke up I would walk on my toes until I was fully awake. It always takes me a long time to wake up. Like my body is fighting a weight that pushes me back into bed. No matter how early or late it is it always takes me 30 minutes or more to fully awaken. Walking on my toes felt like stretching. I like stretching, it feels like refreshing, like a computer. People have always called me a bird. The kids at school compared me to the less graceful ones like ducks and the long necked ones like cranes. Family members called me soft like canaries or beautiful like swans. Always a bird, but never the strong ones that hunt other birds or the ones as big as toddlers. I was always Maya Angelou’s bird, the kind you can cage. Not like Tweety either, Tweety was badass. Always the cute little birds who sung in the morning and would pop onto your finger and chirp whenever company was over. They don’t call me a bird anymore. Now eating like a bird is connected to my anxiety. Standing on my toes as I wait for my body to fully awaken is lazy. Speaking softly is met with, "HUH? Speak up so we can hear you!" Now those things aren’t cute because I’m 20and am supposed to have my shit together all the time. Because Jade isn’t supposed to be a child anymore. I’m not a child anymore but I’m still Me. ~ Song of the Day:Safety in the familiarity I find with them. It always feels like finding a long lost love. Saudade (n.) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant, or that has been loved and then lost; "the love that remains" ~ Song of the Day: |
J. SeymoneThis is the place for the public consumption of my poems, album reviews, and general thoughts. Archives
April 2019
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