Did you ever wish you didn’t exist?
I have.
Do you ever wonder why you are the way you turned out?
Do you ever feel as if some integral part of you has been dissected, broken inside of you or lost beyond finding?
I have and every now and then, I do.
I do.
The leaves fall and I could speak out.
Then summer comes in fast and mighty
and I’m coy in my recoiling.
I’m sly in my avoiding.
There’s no arguments to be had when my voice is simply too small.
I thought I was enough but I continue to fall short.
Outspoken and slighted are you.
By who?
There’s adjustments to be made.
I can’t speak up.
You’re right.
Booming is your shout and your whisper.
Abomination, I hate myself for loving.
I hate my being so small.
I’m frail.
Everyone thinks they know me.
They’re not even breaking the slightest of surfaces.
Keep assuming, keep on keeping up with the Joneses.
I thought I was enough but I continue to fall short.
It’s coming.
I know it’s coming.
There’s a tidal wave and monsoon.
I’m drowning against the wall I continue slamming into.
Dawning Creations 
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