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, i’ll be your friend.
i couldn’t do anything but cry.
got to take care all your own.
i don’t belong. i don’t ever want to come from here.
i put it down on paper and then the ghost does not ache so much.
you can’t erase what you know. you can’t forget who you are.
please don’t make me tell it all.
you can never have too much sky.
but i know how those things go.
you must remember to come back. for the ones who cannot leave as easily as you.
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 don’t know why but i had to run away.
like something wasn’t right.
then we didn’t need to worry.
shame is a bad thing, you know. it keeps you down.
and other things i can’t explain.
they think we’re dangerous.
i hold and hold and hold him.
you don’t want to know them.
i like to tell stories. i tell them inside my head.
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 could’ve been somebody, you know?
dededos
annaxmalina
kaledo-art
pixelskylines
andulkaphoto
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
