breathe

you

are your worst inner demon.

you destroy

the beautiful things you’re given

with such sharp words

with such angry thoughts

with such strong hands.

 

and you

are unaware of how much you hurt people.

you exude a love of life,

even though this love

—shallow, but begging to be whole—

is more often found

once at a high school party

than once in a lifetime, i know.

and people

are drawn to that

and you let them

get just close enough to hurt you

so you can hurt them back.

 

you say you will never be that person,

the one who uses fingers

to rip instead of to mend

to scar instead of to cherish

to point to what you think belongs to you instead of what you actually own,

because you are terrified

to own only yourself

with only the hole inside of you

as shelter

and only your own arms

to wrap around yourself

when you remember too much pain.

 

you were fine before.

but after,

you are not the same.

 

i see you

and i see

all that you are

encapsulating all that you could be

if you could call that abyss a pothole

instead of a grave

an obstacle you trip over

instead of a bed you make every day

every day

over and over

and over again.

 

i am tired

of you treating me

like i am too small to make a difference

like my voice does not matter because i don’t use it.

i think you say this

because

you are too afraid

that you will not be anybody when you leave

that no one will love you

that no one will remember you.

 

but i will. i’ll remember everything.

the good,

the bad,

and the lonely.

 

and i wish

you could see yourself

the way you should be seen.

you are scared to change the world

because you believe it means

changing yourself.

 

but

 

you were created

to change

to leave impacts

on people

and things

and places

that will only remember you for what you did

not who you are

because this world

does not have a good memory.

 

so relish your ability

to demand air from the atmosphere around you

to create reactions

in others

to create responses

to living, breathing things

and know that,

someday,

someone will see that,

even if that someone

isn’t you.

 

learn how to love your ability

to make things

respond to you

with every step you take.

 

Force of Nature,

Force of Destruction,

Hurricane,

Firestorm,

my love,

my darling,

you must love yourself.

because, if you do not,

then i cannot love you.

 

you must care

enough about you

to not self-destruct

so i do not destroy myself

trying to fix you.

 

because i

am not the invincible superhero

you think i am

and i

cannot always save you

when you cannot save yourself.

 

i say all these things

to the girl

staring at me

in the mirror.

i think

she hears me.

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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