behind the runway


If I were to tell you apart of me that aches me everyday
There would be a list , an ongoing list that has poisoned me and hindered my fullest potential
People tell me I should be happy and grateful of how much Ive learned over the course of my years
But honestly at times I feel there's no relevance of me living and I'm too ashamed that my nerves have taken over me and has possessed me and my abilities
to end up in complete and utter failure
But when I draw what I am feeling its as if the inner demon in me is slowly drifting away
These ideas of reinvention and glamour are just a myth because of my anxiety to show everyone who I am and what I am worth is blurry as a foggy morning on the island
I'm no writer, no scientist, no mathematician, and no historian but I am a nervous designer of the future
I have stood silent because the wrong words tremble out of my mouth because of this unbearable fear in myself
Participation in class is oblivious to me because I rarely have the courage to raise my hand
And the only thing I hear since last year
Is my doctor telling me I have a mild nervous disorder and it brings my to tears
Because no one in that ancient school building we have to go to everyday knows about my battle
Its no joke and no excuse but its just unfair
I'm born to sew not to worry
I should soar and bedazzle the old and look forward to the new
But once again I'm just to afraid of allowing my vulnerable artistry to take over and shine on the runway that's foreign to me to this day.


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