April 7

Kaitlin Davenport, writer

Down we go.

We don’t know,

What we don’t know.

Far below,

Is an old soul.

Deep inside,

Our child has died. 

These old souls,

Doesn’t know where to go.

Without any direction or connection, 

They’re alone.

Everyone screaming day and night that we don’t belong,

Seeing everyone glow before fading into the crowd, 

Feeling my personality slip through my fingers. 

Upon the path of life,

Despite all of the wrongs and rights,

Our child has died. 

The souls of the misunderstood cry in agony, 

We’re told to fit in like peas in a pod, 

But do we want to? 

Why must we stay inside? 

Why must our child’s burn deep below?

Struggling to survive, 

Our souls are screaming out.

“Please! Please!” They say, 

Our ears bleeding from the excessive begging. 

We try to push them deeper,

Let the void take control and disregard their desires.

But now,

We can’t stand it.

Live like Adam and Eve. 

Burst out and let your freak fly I say.

Don’t let anyone come in your way. 

Live your life like there’s no tomorrow,

For we don’t know what we don’t know. 

And we won’t know, 

Until we try. 

Up we go.