book meme / the house on mango street, sandra cisneros
it means sadness, it means waiting.
still, we take what we can get and make the best of it.
i have begun my own quiet war.
okay, iāll be your friend.
i couldnāt do anything but cry.
got to take care all your own.
i donāt belong.Ā i donāt ever want to come from here.
i put it down on paper and then the ghost does not ache so much.
you canāt erase what you know. you canāt forget who you are.
please donāt make me tell it all.
you can never have too much sky.
canāt you see iām busy?
but i know how those things go.
you must remember to come back. for the ones who cannot leave as easily as you.Ā
today it belongs to all of us.
until then i am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an achor.
for the ones i left behind.
do you feel it, feel the cold?
sometimes you get used to the sick and sometimes the sickness, if it is there too long, gets to seem normal.
and then i donāt know why but i had to run away.
like something wasnāt right.
then we didnāt need to worry.
shame is a bad thing, you know. it keeps you down.
and other things i canāt explain.
they think weāre dangerous.
i hold and hold and hold him.
you donāt want to know them.
i like to tell stories. i tell them inside my head.
oh, weāre only playing.
i am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate.
maybe we were bored that day. maybe we got tired.
we made a clubhouse once on the back of that old blue pickup.
no wonder everybody gave up.
we are tired of being beautiful.
i couldāve been somebody, you know?
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