I am constructed like stained glass of parts I don’t like
They form unnatural hardened spikes
To protect me from enemy’s that just want to hurt
No wonder my feelings I can never convert

I sit in a tree house hiding away
Listening to music that feels so cliche
I stare at the ceiling wondering why
Sometimes I’m numb to saying goodbye

I run through the forest where I feel free
Put my hands up the sun shines on me
The birds are all chirping at different speeds
Then I realize this is the feeling I need

A spiritual growth that rips you apart
Placing your pieces so you can restart
Finding your place in this sick world
Like a tornado your pieces are swirled

They fall into place like you should know
All of the places that you don’t go
It’s beauty, destruction all the above
It’s sometimes not it, or it fits like a glove
Finding yourself is not a real path
It’s swimming in streams and taking a bath
It’s knowing the good and knowing the wrath.
© wondrouslythinking