when i spoke innocence

as i've aged, i think a crucial part of me, my self worth and self preservation to be exact, have been left behind -i'm struggling to accept that...

when i was twelve i thought i was the smartest,
the brightest,
the best girl with purpose for the world
i told myself, in passing,
that i would do great things-
i'd carry stars,
i'd go to mars-
i'd become so extraordinary

i held myself with great esteem,
devouring all books-
i spoke not of my looks
though they were nothing anyway,

i wore dark clothes to reflect
my reflex
to hide myself beneath dark texts,
gloomy, controversial or overflowing with joy
i wanted to destroy,
my mind, my soul, all that i had
because i was so glad to be praised,
and raised upon a pedastal-

that when i started to develop
strange and harmful habits,
suddenly all the rabbits
in the world, were of no comfort

the fiction,
my addiction, it no longer helped me
and i dropped it
and i stopped it, from evermore
evolving and now I stand, my crown
rolling further away-
and i no longer pray
just watch it, the distance growing

it showed no sign of slowing,
my legs merged with the floor, hands-
barely in control,
i allowed the crown to roll,

far and far away,
i know what you might say, i should have kept it near
but i was so tired, that i really
just wanted to disappear
beneath a stack of books,
a new addiction
because i no longer get lost in all the fiction,
instead, i feel a longing

a grand new calling-
to collect the books and make a safety net
because i no longer want to move,
i just want to stay here.

Author's Note

what do you think? I would love to know everyone's opinion(s) <33