Within Its Banks

Wed, 08/01/2018 - 12:13 -- eva_koz


12724 LaCrosse Ave. APt. #2A
United States
37° 5' 24.864" N, 95° 42' 46.4076" W


A girl.


Terrified of her own self,

Because it had become the unknown.

The girl

She saw

In the mirror

Had become

One she no longer recognized.

Because that girl

Had a new label etched into her soul.

Within a matter of seconds,

Her life had been flipped upside down,

And turned inside out,

At the command of

Just one word,

Four syllables,

And eight letters.


Had become her new identity,

The only reason people had begun to turn heads at her,

The only reason she would get all the attention,

And the only time she didn't want any of it.

But as she walked through thick walls of pity,

In the seemingly never-ending halls of silence,

She heard a familiar voice in the distance.

Hey, champ!

It called.

And all of a sudden,

She realized,

She was,


And always will be,

That same girl,

Who was,

In fact,


At least,

To those that mattered.



Dear Mr. L.,

There are a few people

That took more weight off of my shoulders

Than they added.

You're one of the few.

When my world was imploding,

Caving in on itself,

You helped me build a structure,

An internal framework,

One that nobody,

Not even myself,

Could tear down.

On my road to recovery,

You helped me fill my potholes,

And checked my oil,

To see if I was truly up and running.

You found the holes in my plot,

And the cracks in my facade,

But instead of using them

To tear me apart,

You used them

To let the light shine through.

You helped me realize

That not everything bruised

Is broken,

And not everything lustrous,

Is perfect.

You taught me to be humble,

Through all of my highs

And all of my lows.

But most importantly,

You taught me that the only way

I could be happy,

Was if I put myself first.

You taught me that self-love

Wasn’t selfish,

And before I could love others,

I had to love myself.

Because an empty heart

Could only supply the love it contained,

Just like an empty river,

Could only distribute the water

It held within its banks.

Sent 10:34 PM


*New email from Mr. L.*

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This poem is about: 
My family
My community
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