Billie

Her gravestone would read

“Home”

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,

Different seasons,

Different homes,

She has had to fit the quick pro quo

For each

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,

Different towns,

Different homes,

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,

Mommy issues,

She’s delusional,

Has low-self esteem,

Suicidal,

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.

No matter,

Like a wild flower,

Billie knew she was part of something major,

Something majestic,

Something eternal,

Something greater than her.

She saw herself in the sun,

The moon,

The stars,

The clouds,

The rains,

The storms,

The mountains,

The valleys,

The ocean,

The rivers,

The waterfalls,

The trees,

The plants,

The animals,

Dirt,

People,

And all that gravity held in place.

She felt her joys,

Pains,

Worries,

Fears,

Happiness,

In all aspects held by the gravity,

She was gravity,

She was energy,

She was matter,

She was just a girl camouflaging through life.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: