Wednesday, 29 June 2016

I, the Eye

When I was thirteen years old
I became obsessed with tornadoes.
I'd sit at that boxy old screen
For hours, as unsatisfying as they'd seem
And marvel at how beautiful
Such a destructive phenomenon could be.
She was tall and slender
And could run hundreds of kilometers an hour
She had her feet on the ground
But her head in the clouds
She was beautiful 
And she knew how to make
Everything that came
In close contact with her,
She was everything that I wanted to be,
And everything that I could not be
But what enchanted my little self most
Was the fact that even after having so much go on
She'd still have a safe place
Buried deep inside her soul
That belonged to her and just her
A place that no one could see, touch or enter.

When I was fifteen years old

I became obsessed with becoming a tornado
So I ran everyday hundreds of kilometers 
And became taller and slender
My head was in the clouds
But gravity, 
Oh that bitch kept my feet right on the ground.
I was beautiful and everything I touched
Turned into gold
I learned the art of convincing souls
That I was tall and i was slender
That I was beautiful
But what I forgot was the place
That was supposed to be inside my soul.
I turned everything to gold
But soon lost hold
Of where I was supposed to be,
Who I was supposed to be.
And so to fill all those places
I slowly lost my mind
Chasing mindless faces. 

When I was seventeen years old
I became a tornado
Only this time, someone found me.
He was the only one 
Who dared to come any closer
To she who was tall and slender
He let me bleed onto him
While everyone was taken aback by my enigma
He woke up nights with me
When all else thought it was time for my slumber
After years and years of chasing gold
Amidst all that went around me,
I finally got a hold 
I found that place inside my soul.
When I was seventeen years old,
I would still run 
Hundreds of kilometers an hour
Only this time,
I found my pen and my paper.