Alien

Alien

For me,

There is a surrealism to balance.

What is it like to breathe

And not gasp?

Or walk

And not sprint?

 

Aliens are in emotion.

How does one cry without crumbling?

Or stand their ground with defiance

Without bubbling over with a poison rage

Like acid from a cauldron?

A burning, corrosive witches brew.

To see someone cheerful,

Instead of ecstatic is confusing.

I can tell you I have seen UFOs.

They are

In the people I love,

In bus drivers and friends,

In shopkeepers

And therapists.

 

They are alien to me,

Because they are so human

Without complete excess.

I wish I could have just loved you

Instead of being alive

only because of you.

 

Aliens, teach me your ways.

Breakdown the surrealism.

 

Let me be a human.

 

~Emma Catherine

thelilaclysander.com

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