A day without storm

My fingers ly in dust,
My throat holds back words of rust as time has deminished a soul that was already dead.
My lungs hold no air for life had already sucked out my hope and left me dehydrated,
My arms hold no strength for i have been still for quite some time,
as my legs move my body forgets what the wind feels like on my face as a mask has covered my eyes proventing me from feeling what is truly there.
your words peirced my skull and made a bed in my brain,
you may have said please and thank you,
but that does not mistake that all i am left with is empty pockets in jeans that i do not own as you rob me of my identity.

But...

Today,
Today the words that escape my mouth are a flurry of butterflys that never get to reach the petal of an ear drumb,
Today my eyes are a river on a windless stream of saltless shine,
Today my auroa is an unbroken rib protecting my heart from the harsh judgment made by stridulous crimanlas that i sometimes call my friends.
You see on a normal day, words do not escape my mouth with the intent to reach a keen ear,
No, instead they vibrate up to my brain like poisoness oxygen only its trying to kill the pollution that is infecting this world.
you see today is not a normal day because i actually made it out of bed without a waterfall of discolouration flooding my cheeks,

Today is not a normal day because when i looked in the mirror the first thing i saw was my face,
Today was not a normal day because i opened my closet and released the skelitons id been hiding,
and i give them names.
i like to call them,
my smile, my laugh, my happiness, my confidence, my spirit, my soul,
Today is not a normal day because i left my house without a jacket,
and i enjoyed the sun that your words once robbed me of.

I am a foresaken soul that the world likes to steal from even when i own nothing,
I have not owned my smile yet your selfish hands still steal from it,
I have not owned my heart yet your vocal cordes like to strangle it,
I have not owned my streangth yet,
Time likes to weaken my spirit forcing me to stay in bed until someone decides to remember that i was once alive,
and write me a eulogy of all the great memories i never had.