I follow the track of a twelve year old mind
who writes she doesn’t belong.
is uncomfortable not belonging
and notice that
it is I
who don’t belong.
My words seem self-centered.
Encouragement
comes out as self-interest,
self focus
spurs me into saying more
which of course comes out wrong
rejection leaves me a child again
lost in my own mind.
Sometimes life shrinks
all that’s of importance
is the fluttering
small blue curtain
in a bathroom window.
I love your words, and your picture. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteI wish I could write poetry. And I think the picture enhances it beautifully. It's quite haunting, really. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteVery much enjoyed the poem and agree with Alice that the drawing enhances it well.
ReplyDelete