You've no clue what I keep inside,
I tend my soul with care.
You might think you have a clue
based on the words I share.
I promise you, you're nowhere close
to guessing what's within.
Most days I bleed in my poetry,
but I always hold things in.
Never will I give the world
the things I hold most sacred,
I know they'd just destroy them.
I've spent my whole life hated,
but that's okay, I'm used to it.
I learned when still a child
never to give them everything,
if you want to save your wild.
My soul is a secret garden
where neon flowers grow.
I bleed out all my darkness
while my light, I'll never show.
I might be made of poetry,
the darkest words I write.
But in my deepest most secret place,
I'm made of a neon blinding light.
© kristy ellison flake