A match in my hand
Monster heavy on my back
So I strike the flame
On fire I smile wide
The monster, it writhes in pain
Yes, it will die first
I scream in freedom
Falling down to the cold ground
But I am so hot
Water splashes me
Everything goes black, so, so black
I will disappear
I open my eyes
Everything is bright, too bright
What happened to me?
Opening my eyes
A new monster has come now
I am still here, lost…
Because they found me
And they wouldn’t let me burn
How I wish they had.
Two main things inspired me to write these.
One, I just read (and am currently rereading) the book Fierce Fragile Hearts by Sara Barnard. The honesty I found within the pages left me with mixed feelings. I thought about this, and then decided I love that. I love things that make me uncomfortable (with obvious exceptions) like that. They make me think.
I thought about how a lot of people mistake pain for freedom, and/or control. That’s a brief analysis of the first line, third haiku.
Two, and this is actually the first thing that inspired me, is a song lyric I misheard. The song is called Oxygen by Written By Wolves, a band who are my newest love. The proper lyric is “I won’t set myself on fire just so you can feel warmth on your back” and I misheard it as “You set yourself on fire just so you could kill what’s on your back” – no explanation needed there 😉
Also I just really love haikus. So yeah 🙂
(disclaimer: below is a long ramble with no real conclusion. Feel free to click away ^ ^)
I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately. I see all these characters, going through all these things, coming out shredded, and taping themselves back together. Their minds, so different after.
It fascinates me.
I find it so strange, that if I meet a person with scars on their arms, I trust them more than a person with a smile on their face. Why?
The majority of us humans are pack animals. We crave company, and we crave what we know. I guess when I see scars, I immediately know at least three of the feelings they’ve experienced.
If you saw someone like the girl in my haikus, though, the self hatred would most likely come pouring in. Look at that girl with the burns on her face, her arms, her hands. You’re so lucky that hasn’t happened to you, why can’t you be happy with your privileges? Those measly little scars, you think they mean anything? Think again.
But she did that to herself for the same reason that you have those scars on your arms.
I’m not sure what my point is. I guess, stop comparing every aspect of yourself to everyone you see. It’s all so relative.