Dear Best Friend

Dear Best Friend,

 

My hand may not draw

Like your hand draws

It may not follow a perfect circle

It may not scribble straight

It may not color in the lines

I realize it’s not meant to be

So I leave it be

 

Why?

Why should I deny

Myself something so beautiful I

I can not describe it

So why

Why do you make me feel this way

Why do you reflect all that hatred you harbor away

Why does the world work this way

 

My voice may not sing like yours

It may not be able to hit each and every chord

But I can still sing

It may not do all those fancy tricks

It may not be able to crack unintentionally

It may just want to stay simple 

But what’s wrong with simple?

 

My arms

They may not hold as much strength as yours

And my legs

They may not run and hit the ground

Leaving everyone behind

And my back

It may not be able 

To contort in the air

But I still do have flare

 

Why?

Why should I deny

Myself something so beautiful I

I can not describe it

So why

Why do you make me feel this way

Why do you reflect all that hatred you harbor away

Why does the world work this way

 

But my words

My words are all I have

They cut through bone and flesh

They’re sharper than a knife

They can heal your hope

And carry you till morning’s light

 

Because my words

 

They may not be spoken like yours

They may be from different minds

But these words they are mine

 

Why should I deny

Myself something so beautiful I

I can not describe it

Why

Why would I let you make me feel this way

I can’t change the way the world works

But I can change the way it hurts

 

With my hands

And my heart

And my arms

And my legs and my back

And my voice and my words

 

Why

Why should I deny

Myself something so beautiful I

I could not describe it

Why

Why would I let you make me feel this way

When I can’t change the way the world works

But I’ll change the way the world hurts

 

You can take my spirit

You can take my soul

I know my heart would follow you but I won’t let you take my words too. 

 

My hands may not draw

Like your hands can draw

But I don’t need that

Anymore

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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