I would rest in a secret garden
Watering my unsaid thoughts
For they had no other place
Since they were “too much”
Waiting for life to unfold
Like a flower before me
With unplanned moments
Yearning to arrive where I belong
Little knowing that some people
Search for their purpose all their lives
Constantly feeling they bloom in the wrong places
Loving things that never love them back
Growing pains were a certainty.
That I was becoming an adult
Yet a part of me wanted to hang on
To the zest for life, a two-year-old holds
Childhood is like building a house.
You will live in it for the rest of your life
Unaware of how it will feel inside its walls
For construction felt so out of your control
I didn't want to be judged by my outside
But I rarely pulled up the blinds, always careful
How much you could see from my windows
Yet yearning for guests to come inside
I have learnt that not everything built
Was put in the best place for me
So I've crashed my windows
And broken down my walls
I have learnt that nobody can teach you
How your rooms and furniture should look like
Your inner kingdom is yours to mend
The only lesson being that it is possible
I have learnt the only constant guest here is me
And this should be a safe and secure place
To hold in peace all I've been and all that I'm becoming
Only after, others will feel welcomed too
More from Nataša Benedičič ↓
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