Curate, connect, and discover
Here in the closet, I think / And sometimes I sink / into the void of ink / that is fear and nervousness and so many things. / These things / they feel like stings / from a thousand bees / in my mind, destroying the ease / I hide. / But I hide it. / Bit by bit. / I’ve been in the closet for so long. / I left one, / thought I was done, / but I was wrong. / Now I cry, / ‘Why? / Why did the light catch my eye / from out beyond my reach?’ / Now I feel like I have to hide / deep in side / from all sight / but my own. And I’m scared. What if when I leave the closet / I’ll realize that it / was better inside? / And I wonder. Staring outside / at the sky / wondering why / a rainbow is there. / Is it a sign that people will care / for me? But it’s gone. And the rain / of doubt and pain / and ink / is back and I start to sink / but I scream no! / I will let my face, my colors show! / I don’t want to stay / locked away / where I can only hope and say / maybe one day / it will be okay / to leave. I will make the key! / And everyone will see / who I am! And then I sigh. / Maybe not tonight. / I’m not ready yet. But I’m getting closer.