Melanie’s voice was the tide
Swooping in and around With little delight But never petering out Hallways sung of her strength Of her pride and pain That clung to her breath Pooling on tiled flames She spoke and people listened Ignored red cuts on tan skin The expressions written In the crevices of her limbs Her voice, was the sun The breeze beginning to bud While everything else sunk Too heavy and numb She couldn’t speak Couldn’t even peek At her own mystique The family she couldn’t seek “They’re Indonesian” Was the only information She ever was given for collection All the rest, seen as temptation So, Melanie’s voice wound with the wind And people celebrated her flair Neglecting what was dimmed Will anyone ever truly care?
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Nolan can transform
He can rub his hands Dazzle his black hair Unwind by the ocean Smile for everyone And he would be different But not himself… The thing is Nolan loves himself He loves many people in fact Friends Parents Siblings Teachers Classmates Neighbors Maybe not his siblings (But definitely his dog) But strings cut his deep brown wrists And wrench him apart A clock squats on his heart And his legs can only tread so far Water thrums at his feet on the verge of sweeping him away Nolan wants his friends, parents, teachers, the world to be happy But he forgets himself Nolan, you are not alone You do not have to transform You are Beautiful and the world is happy to have you in it |
AuthorI'm Darcy Ridge, creating stories that all revolve around family and identity in a myriad of ways. In the past, I have shared multiple stories and published a novella online. You can find me on Wattpad and many other social media websites. They/them [Image Description: black background with the words "Social Justice and Mental Health Resources" in white in the center /end ID]
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