Said Who?

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Who told you to that? That you had to apologize for having a bad day, that it would inconvenience them and require an apology to avert misfortune. Who told you the paint on your fingers didn’t represent your tears, that they weren’t allow...

Who told you to that? That you had to apologize for having a bad day, that it would inconvenience them and require an apology to avert misfortune. Who told you the paint on your fingers didn’t represent your tears, that they weren’t allowed to be angry? Who said you couldn’t write until your fingers bled from holding the pen as if it were the last piece of your soul up for auction? Shame on them, for basking in the sun when you had shade to endure. Who told you that? Who told you darkness was that of shame and that you had to apologize because of it? Those kinds of people are why I despise the sun. I would sit in a dark room with you, with only the flames of your eyes and never ask you to change. Did they grab you by the arms and attempt to shove you in a box of their normalcy? Shame on them. I know you only grow in darkness, watered by the very tears that kill you and I’ve never seen something so beautiful.

Alexandra L. Narron

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