To this day

Fri, 10/21/2016 - 09:14 -- MiaD123

Pen to paper, I rethink my intuitions.

What is my purpose, my stability

It's my thoughts that make me

I drop my pen on the ground and cry in fear

I don't even really know myself

I've only become a me that people expect

I have so many talents and I keep them to myself

If someone looks at me, they'll only see a mirror

A mirror that is cracked in my despair

Push my head into the wall of pain blocking me

It only makes me feel better physically, but not emotionally

But then my old self comes up to me

It pats me on the back and gives an encouraging smile

It says to me," I've never left you..."

"I've only hid myself until you loved yourself."

I close my eyes in relief as I begin to realize

 I am a flower waiting for the sun

 and all this time the sun was me

This poem is about: 
Me

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