The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Augustana chapter.
Under the quiescent soul
is a collection of words spoken,
while nobody listens.
Under this facade
are the nauseating images
of my past.
Under the unrest lie is
unease of how long
it takes to reveal my true self.
Under this smile painted in sorrows are
the same old issues
I’ve been gnawing at
for years.
Under the soft glance is
the melancholy for connection
from a group of girls in red,
miles away
Under this sorrow is
the desire to sprint
Home
Vermont
France
Saturn
So I stand with a broom in my hand
No longer the dust collector of shadows within my
mind. For I must leave old emotions behind.