I am a dystopia whose fault line you are just waiting to fracture,
Splintering me into chaotic shards,
The world tells me on that sunshine tulip-coated poster:
“You must love yourself before anyone can love you”
But is that really how things are going to work?
Love myself for all my flaws and all my troubles, insecurities, fears,
Love that I’m not him nor her nor them,
Nobody will love a broken person.
If I am to love myself truly, I would reject you, poster,
I can be confident that someone like me
Can appreciate me even when I don’t,
Someone who doesn’t need me to conceal authenticity
For the sake of seeming whole. No.
Sure, I’m fine with myself most of the time,
I know I have weaknesses, struggles,
My thoughts board a train to nowhere,
But that doesn’t mean I am required to smother it
Before I am valid, valuable, worthy
Of another broken human’s affections.
Yours is a breed of motivation
That suffocates the real and replaces it with fiction.
Poster, I love when I love who I love why I love how I love
And it doesn’t matter, shouldn’t matter
Because I will always hold value
To someone who matters.