Someone once told me they saw me looking out a window and there was a lot going on inside. The floor was made of clouds and I was scared to jump.

The story I want to tell is how the world doesn’t get me
And how I’ve made a fool of myself trying to save me.

And so the room gets so quieter, the hole gets so tinier and I can’t control myself.
What is your intention to save me now from my dreams.

I dreamt a dream, looking out a window 
Clouds as cement, I became fearful
How could I fear something as sweet as snow on my feet.

Whether it’s I’m a stranger to this world or someone that came from the past,
These footsteps are afraid to jump out of the window.

Being kissed by the waves and the sand
I wanna go high but I don’t know where to land.

Looking out the window trying to see right past,
The future of me that I want so bad
And focus on the present, which makes me sad
I think I know me but they don’t know that.

I brush past these writings and understand why they don’t get me
My life is written in riddles, my poetic rhythms all over the place
You would have to come into this hole to try and understand
That contrary to belief this hole isn’t dark,
         It has a window for a pretty fool to look out of,
         trying to see right past,
         The future of me that I want so bad.

Process

A workshop class inspired this piece. The goal of the workshop was to write a poem that could describe the prompt “The story I want to tell is… The story I need to tell is…” I often feel like I am misunderstood because of the dreams and aspirations I possess. I would imagine the scene of me looking outside a window admiring the people and things living some form of life but I am scared to join them. So this is a poem for the window I was once scared of climbing out of but have learned to jump out of because I know I’ll be caught if I fall.