So much they don’t know, like:
How I do numeric license plate
Reduction to get through traffic;
How I count my breaths
In grocery store lines to
Stay in control of an
Agoraphobic mind, or
How my ear buzzes when
Sound is too loud, and
I cannot hear my own volume
So my voice elevates and
Irritates the unknowing. She
Is a weird one, that lady who
Doesn’t know enough about
Our world because she grew
Up the odd girl, chained away
From life; and when she emerged
They piled on more hurt;
More pain: more disdain for
The oddity, and now as I
Sit inside my knowing, a
Warning washes over me.
Take cover. They are
Closing in with surface
Love again; the reel in, so
There can be a target
For the knife throwing game.
I pack my bags for the
Faithful woods where
Trees accept me for me, and
Flowers smile, even on
Rainy days, because in these
Breakable moments, I have
Paid atonement for graven
Mistakes made from a mind
Riddled with bullet holes, and
When they want you to fold in
Like a tiny infant, and they
Want your voice low, if not
Silent, it’s time to go; into the
Hills where nature embraces
And erases wounds with care.
I can’t force understanding or
Even acceptance. Rejection
Leaves glass shards in the heart.
I process sadness, that there are
Chains some humans will refuse to break,
And they’ll create more aching and hate
In forward generations, leaving
More and more separation.
Healing is a decision, one made
With such precision, the path
Cannot be altered. So when the
Truth sinks in and the fodder
Isn’t enough for an empty belly,
Sorrow searches for a home,
And sometimes that means
Choosing a life of being alone.
𝒱𝑒𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒 𝒦𝑜𝒸𝓈𝒾𝓈
Vennie Kocsis 