I think I've been forgotten
nobody knows
how long I've been away
however, in the details
the uncertainty shows.

There is no grave,
no marker
no way to pay respects
so please just move along
and just continue to forget.

I enter to see perfect smiling faces by themselves, with others, with places and things
Here is shiny and there is new with an underlining endless hum of energy
Scrolling is breathing; I can only stop it for so long before I’m gasping
I find myself competing with the perpetual perfection;
Wondering how their waist is so small, their teeth so white and their life so golden
as I sit in the shadow of my own depression.

Just don't think about those people
Who have left you with no choice
But to think the reason of your aloneness.

Just don't hover around,
Those,
Making you feel unworthy,
Shut their door,
And don't worry dear,
It isn't ego,
It's self-respect,
Self-help,
Self esteem and
Self-love.

Just don't be with those,
Bragging about their victory,
By belittling your tiny beginnings,
And don't worry dear,
It isn't that you aren't worthy,
But the person is so unworthy
To witness your
Victory by stepping tiny it's.

You beat up yourself
militarizing doubts.
but I can offer you
some good armor.
I give many pieces
but you must equip them.
Please hear and equip
because my heart is breaking for you.

I am from my birth pillow.
I am from loneliness, sadness...
spaciness...
...I was always looking for something.

I am from dandelions and tall, tall grass.
The breeze sifted through the yard, and the
blades swayed in perfect synchrony.

I am from Christmas Eve at Grandpa's
house, and the low status gifts.  From
****** communication.  From stones, and Nelsons.

I am from living in fear,
and abandonment.  From,"You're like him."
And luckily from, "You weren't MEANT to fit in."

I am from the cross and communion, and then
realizing I cannot see his face in nature's mirror.
With my own reflection being distorted by the glass.

I am from Illinois, and Scandinavian blood...
From potato soup and at times, nothing.
I am from her absence, and how fast she left.

I am from burnt up, few remaining, and rare pictures.
I am from toys I once collected, now melted.  The pillow
I had now gone.

I am from the feeling I had a consumerists mark
on the world, but my impression is more.  More than
toys or things, I have who I am.  My memories.

I have my worth.

It's hard being someone
and even harder
being you