April never understood what to do.
Be it nurture, nature or
Confusion between the two,
Deep down she felt helpless.
Every day she’d wake,
Feed herself,
Get dressed,
Head out of the house and
Insist she
Just wasn’t like everyone else.
Kindness felt difficult.
Love impossible.
Movement came slowly,
Numbly,
Or downright painfully.
Pain like no other.
Quiet screams
Raced through her veins,
Smiling at the sensation.
Time after time:
Unrelenting disappointment,
Vexing inconsistencies,
Warning signs repeated,
Xeroxed life,
Ye with little faith,
Zealously moving forward.

© Carl Burkitt 2017

This poem is part of a challenge for National Poetry Writing Month 2017 – a different style of poem each day about a woman called April.