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The Wild Beasts
Don’t tell me I’m not alone,
Show me the others.
The mysterious individuals that somehow understand me,
That somehow have the same exact emotions that I do.
How can that even be possible?
We can share our problems.
We can both go to bed at night dreading the tomorrow,
And we can both lie alone in our rooms
Hiding from parents that don’t understand us,
But my emotions are all my own.
You and I can not possibly share that.
So how can I explain it?
How can I put words to something you’ve surely never felt before,
And expect you to understand,
Expect you to suddenly get me,
And be able to tell me how to stop feeling this way.
Emotions are like wild beasts
Each with their own unique personality and characteristics,
Differing not only between each other,
But between people.
My sadness is a snake
Lying in the blue vein in my arm.
Pumping its poison through me,
Uncontained and bitter,
Thwarting my best attempts to rein it in.
My anger is a lion.
Caged inside my brain,
Poked with sticks until suddenly it can’t take it anymore,
And it bursts.
It roars louder than all thoughts,
Its stance wide and sturdy and powerful,
And it claws manically at any surface
Trying to escape.
And my happiness is a hummingbird.
It flits insanely from place to place,
Energizing my fingers with its rapid wing beat,
Then my heart,
My head,
My toes,
Until I’m practically buzzing,
Its a jolt of caffeine,
Addicting and oh so sweet to the taste,
But just as short lived.
So how can I explain to you these beasts.
If you can’t see them,
Or feel them for yourself.
I can’t speak the cold calculating movements of a dancing snake,
I can’t tell the sadness and pride melted into the amber of a lion’s eyes,
And I can’t utter the desperation and franticness of a hummingbird’s wings.
You must experience them for yourself
In order to truly understand.
And so, I can only look at you,
And hope that in my eyes you can see it.
And somehow,
If only scratching the surface
Comprehend.
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