We’re celebrating National Poetry Month with our first poetry contest. Submit your most artistic, emotional, or hilarious original poetry inspired by movement—whatever that means to you. Use #VocalNPM to enter.
Locked up without a cause or reason for, I found myself staring out a window. It was a desolate tree and I love that tree. The walls were as white as eggshells and the floor was tiled. Day one I was confused, I believed I was in the right place at the right time but I was wrong. I'm surrounded by strangers both On My Level and above me. The blue scrub wearing strangers held keys to understandings that were beyond my own. I was put in place yet, I was out of place.
Steadfast in pace while moving. Picking up speed quickly as to blur when seen; her body sings songs sorrow as her soul was forced to this burning in a flesh like hell. Knowing she could be a closer version to what's reflected within if money wasn't an option and she had the desire for the surgery. She had been born into a body of opposite settings; she doesn't have any plans of getting her faulty body changed for she believes this is a lesson to gain from, rather than a curse of suffering. The growth in the depths of her patience is one of the many things that has been earned from this torture bestowed upon her.