Always feeling out of place.
Always feeling cold.
Always alone in a world full of people.
Always feeling distant.
Always feeling like she don’t belong.
Always feeling sad.
Always feeling quiet.
Always and always.
Like the curse of a nomad, wondering aimlessly searching for love.
She was never warm, suffering from a chill that hardens her soul.
Not because she is constantly ignored but because the connection with humanity simply does not exist. She has no one to tell, no one who can understand her. No one to save her.
She dreams of the day when she will feel at peace, she wishes of the day the sadness will leave her alone. When her cinnamon teary eyes will be swept by the illuminous sun.
Her Shaky fingers held firmly by a strong touch. Her loneliness guzzled by love
Her isolation taken up by company. They say misery loves company. Her misery yearns for something that will make it whole.
Sometimes her thoughts can be toxic, but she cannot shut them out, they are loud in her head, reminding her of how distant she is.
She struggles to breath. Heavy chest with a lumpy throat, she closes he eyes in hopes of letting the pain fade away. Suffocating in her own mind, total eclipse of peace. This is a routine for her. And so she will live
Always feeling out of place.
Always feeling cold.
Always alone in a world full of people.
Always feeling distant.
Always feeling like she don’t belong.
Always feeling sad.
Always feeling quiet.
Always and always.
Ashleigh Wenyika 