You may say I am naive,
I live in a world of might be and maybes.
I live in a world of possibilities .
Optimistic, right before me I see a dream
Each person is missing something and it is my job to find that puzzle piece.
Sure, most of the time these wishes our superficial consisting of models and Lamborghinis.
from tradgedy occasionally emerges beauty.
A selflessness so pure.
"Mommy," the little girl beside me breaths.
Her breath catches as tears threaten she squeezes her mother's hand.
"Mommy" she repeats softer now, "please hear me, please mommy".
It was too late and the girl knew it.
Her mother's heart beat slowed the haunting beeping rythm changing, silence and hurt replacing.
The little girl was shaking her soft brown hair cascading over her mother's chest, the little girl listening to her mother's heart beat.
She had memorized it's drum, a constant in her not so constant life.
This heartbeat was different,
it was weak.
How the girl felt as well, weak.
The girl dropped her hand in her mother's and eyed around the room.
Everything was entirely too clean.
The smell burned her nose and the tears burned her eyes.
Someone had to be there to wipe away her tears and hear her cries turn into goodbyes.
I am she.
I am she who lifts up the weak in an attempt to change the world.
I am she who has risen from ashes time and time again.
I am she who offers a helping hand to even those who don't refer to me as friend.
I am she who has been weak, worrying and struggling with anxiety.
Though I may not always give empathy, sympathy is a gift given freely.
I am she who wipes the tears falling from a child's lashes.
Without hesitating to take someone else's lashes.
As life crashes, scars form across my back sprawling cursive letters.
Carefully spelling out my promise, I will be strong for the weak.
I am she.