Development

I developed slowly
I was always one step behind the mind's greatest discoveries--
Yet no one reminded me.
So I wandered deeper and deeper into the abyss
silently enraged by the lack of belief and understanding in my true self
I never found a niche
couldn't even process my own feelings of anxiety, fear and rage,
and Yet the crying stopped when words failed to talk more than the rich expression in my eyes
I wanted so much to have arms wrap around me
and tell me over and over again, that I was going to be okay. That I wasn't so strange
wasn't so skinny
wasn't so fucking weak
Yes I wanted someone to tell me I was beautiful--ON REPEAT.
Because beauty was what I knew so well
It was the reassuring mark of acceptance
after a long cry and sick feeling in my stomach---
that 'oh you look so pretty
after a long night of unfamiliar shelter.
Yes, the beauty of disguise made me sleep well.
So well in fact that I would win best in show.
Someone was watching over me because
I was given the tools I needed to find the attention I needed on my own.
Yet we all know that that shit is only skin deep.
Doesn't cure the hurt in one's heart
doesn't fix the broken memories of what may be laughter, fear or pain
doesn't stop me from remembering the unordinary nights when I felt so alone,  
when I find myself getting weak in the knees on a friday night as I remember the hazzy afternoons where i dug my fingernails into my mattress with the phone in my hand
because i didn't know what to do.
when I hid behind the door forgetting everything else
when I mechanically did as i was told the next day because I never thought to ask
what's this hole I feel I right here mommy?