Before.
Can I cry in the rain?
Will it wash it all away?
What if tomorrow is the same?
Will my hurt wallow and stay?
I'd like to stay here in my isolated little home.
Here my thoughts are free to roam.
They will use this room, and create a catacomb.
Creating holes in the walls like a lithodome.
After.
I am the person in a room full of people.
Whether it be hectic or peaceful,
I am always the Neon Steeple.
Needed and gleeful.
I am not the quiet girl you poke fun at.
I'm the girl who's words are spat
Into every listening ear, a lunge and attack.
But I do not remain as just that.