View Full Version : Skyscrapers (spoken word)


metaphysicist
02-11-16, 06:33 AM
Hi! I'm Charlie. As a small introduction, I've been writing since I was 10 or younger, and I've been performing spoken word since I was about fourteen. I live with several comorbid mental illnesses, so much of my work centers around living and coping with mental health problems, dealing with the self-esteem issues that often arise from not behaving in a way neurotypical people deem appropriate, and subsequently, the way stigma affects our view of and experience with mental illness. This is called Skyscrapers, in case you didn't notice. It's kinda about that. If you have any constructive criticism, I'd love to hear it. I'm always looking to improve. Thanks. :p
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Skyscrapers

I was once a skyscraper.
I reached high with shining eyes, wishing the clouds
would run through my fingers like soft hair.
Foggy days were my favorite.
I could pretend I could fly,
forget heavy, unsteady cement foundation
that held me to the ground with cracking weight.
Forget the meaning of 'smog'
as pollution floated up around me.

I was once a skyscraper.
I was filled with
unwelcome ideas of what I should be,
with uninvited graffiti
where my walls met concrete.
Some of it beautiful,
all artistic thoughtlessness
lining lies and attempts to claim me.
Their names etched
into thinning attempts
at thick skin.
People marked me, made me a war zone.
Expectations battled Ďtill I was alone.
Tearing down walls
sounds a lot like when doors close,
but these doors were broken down before they ever had the chance to open.

And I was not meant to be a skyscraper.
My foundation was shaky, not thick enough to reach for the stars.
People forget why the words Ďscarsí and Ďstarsí
sound so much alike, that those
millions of lights
lay thin white lines
on your skin if you get too close.
Those distant suns burn hot and bright
in their speckled appearance on the black night.
Seeing in the dark was
never my strong suit.
People forget itís okay to lose,
itís okay to leave stargazing to those
who can fly
more than once in a blue moon.

I was not meant to be a skyscraper.
When I reached for the stars
my hands would come back blackened and blistered.
Without regard, people painted over my arms,
my palms and my walls
with images of grandeur.
I know, when greatness is presumed
it is just as painful as when your failure is assumed
and we live with roads carving through
the landscapes
of our children.
These roads created in hopes we get to
another awe inspiring
industrious
discovery.

There is wonder in the ecosystems that encompass
the minds we cut through, the thoughts we use
merely as transportation to
another multi-million dollar corporation.
Just another celebration
of our ability
to efficiently
slice through
the children we deemed
to be destined for mediocrity.

We are not all meant to be skyscrapers,
tall buildings that block others view of the stars.
A small home, living alone will not mar
your cities or skylines,
and you can find fragments of joy
in twinkling lights
shining out small windows
late at night.
Sometimes happiness means finding galaxies
in the eyes you see
in the mirror,
painting constellations on your arms
and your teeth
to remind you that your stars
are not out of reach
when youíre looking for them
in the words that you speak,
in the worlds you make
late at night,
quietly create.

We are not all meant to be skyscrapers.
There is beauty when you find exhilaration
in the realization
of how much
hides
inside
the nooks and crannies of your mind.
Music resides
in quiet creation,
in looking down at yourself
and not up all the time,
and there is strength in nights spent alone,
choosing your silent inspiration.
Progress exists in every story of your life
and if you never wanted
to scrape the sky
with your fingernails,
itís alright.
Iíve lived a life
where bright lights
left burn scars on my arms
and tore my skin to tatters.
So I know, you donít need to go through that,
you donít need to touch the stars to matter.