She is the girl in the bright-red headphones
dreaming of becoming an actress.
That’s how the world sees her
and (admittedly) at times that’s how she sees herself.
But in her dreams she’s a phoenix,
eyes glowing mighty,
hair the same colour as the buds
she uses to protect her ears from outsider doubts.
In her dreams there are no brick walls
no concrete roads or soot-stained clouds.
When morning comes,
her dreams (once lucid) disappear
and the world sees her clipped-winged
and ashen like city streets
not knowing that she’ll be reborn again by nightfall.
Not knowing there’s a world full of reds
oriental blue and yellows that only she can imagine.
Her world may be grey to an outsider
but she walks on pastel toes when the night comes,
leaving neon footprints in her wake.
This is the third and final part to a series of poems. Click below for the first and/or second part if you missed them: