• spammi 6w

    Space

    I feel like a silent hero,
    Floating in and out of time.
    Many few people get to feel this point of view,
    I'm trying to embrace it more with pride.
    Being told that my trauma causes super human strength,
    Is like taking that hot relaxing shower and then remembering your not home alone
    Then it must be like getting ice thrown at you.
    That feeling.
    Dread.
    My poor family deals with it,
    But we all know.
    It's far too quiet in my house,
    For I'm aggressively exposed to even the slightest bit of the teenie-est sound.
    The cars,
    The trucks,
    The life
    Outside of these walls it thrives,
    And that all together loudly and violently vibes.
    To these following realizations:
    I can hear below my room,
    Past the living room into the stone
    - Deep into the heart of the house.
    Pass the pipes,
    Deeper still,
    I could hear,
    Into the earth deeper,
    Til the dirt wasn't cold anymore but warm.
    A deeper feeling-
    The beat inside is resonance and heavy laced,
    A drop into a resounding Bass.
    More I can hear,
    Now look up.
    I can also hear above my roof's awnings and evies,
    Beyond the trees,
    Clouds and
    Skies,
    Farther still until you hit the heart in the darkest blackness of the Exosphere.
    There is the softest of sound,
    Past the whirlwinds and agitation
    Pureness flowing into being is created
    A star being born.
    The sound is so truly tragically unique,
    and, Yet
    -it is eaten by the nothingness of space.
    ┬ęspammi