Her gravestone would read
But she never wants to be buried.
She strongly believes with death comes home and that doesn’t involve a lifeless box for her.
Billie has been so many things,
Different walks of life,
She has had to fit the quick pro quo
For her survival has always been reliant on camouflage.
She never really knew how to answer the
“Where do you come from?” question
For Billie never really had home.
Not in the sense people define home.
She had grown up in different places,
Never one place too long,
Never one place safe,
Never one place loving,
Never one place understood,
Never one place truly accepted.
From a very young age,
Billie knew that she had to morph
Into that which was acceptable
For her indifference was always a devil’s trigger.
Billie is no stranger to the cruelty of the world,
On a cold rusty saucer,
The world has served her auctioned demons,
Wrapped in different experiences,
In different homes,
In different places,
And in different stages of her life,
And those the universe put in her life,
Only cared about labeling her.
It couldn’t be that maybe she never had a shot at childhood,
That she lacks people skills,
It couldn’t be that her father walking out on her when she was so young,
That she beats trust issues,
It couldn’t be that her mom leaving her in cruel and hateful homestead to go out there, build a life for them,
That she craves something deeper than that which the world offers,
It couldn’t be that she has been molested one too many times,
That she finds it hard it hard to attach,
It couldn’t be that she always only ever been treated like trash,
That she just prefers her own company,
It couldn’t be that she found a friend in solitude and peace in your violence,
That she thrives in silence,
No! It couldn’t be either of those things.
It has to be that
She is just snobbish,
She just has daddy issues,
Has low-self esteem,
She is just a “ticking bomb”
It couldn’t be that all she want is “Be”
It couldn’t be that maybe if you came a little closer,
Looked deep into her eyes,
Feel the tales on her skin,
Hear the rhythm of her story in her heart,
Know her true roots from the texture of her hair,
That you’d realize Billie is more than the labels you’ve given her.
Like a wild flower,
Billie knew she was part of something major,
Something greater than her.
She saw herself in the sun,
And all that gravity held in place.
She felt her joys,
In all aspects held by the gravity,
She was gravity,
She was energy,
She was matter,
She was just a girl camouflaging through life.