Block these lines
that come to find
all these insecurities
in your mind.

Let yourself be heard
let yourself be seen
Fly like a free bird
and break this cage that’s never been.

You are confident
You are enough
You yourself are a complement
You are brave and you are tough.

Break these shackles that hold you back
Let all of it go
There’s nothing that you lack
then watch your life grow.

Grow, to the way it’s supposed to be
The way you have always wanted it to be
Never conceal
Always feel

Be true and see what happens
Because that’s the way of life
You attract what you imagine.

They're attractive to see
long, thin, sharp as nails
they grow slow like snails
its life is one long jubilee

Butterfly is not a meal
but when they flew in your stomach, it felt surreal
is something that you cannot steal
a hunger that is hard to fulfill

As when thorns and butterflies collide,
You wouldn't even know how to survive
Thorns will **** you for a while
The worst feeling that you cannot hide

Thorns will pierce you and the pain is mild
Butterflies will die, even if they go wild.

Death is such a simple thing
To have made living so complex
To grow around an absence
Is to change your shape completely.

It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gaps, heal their rifts — those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to grant shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm — through and through.

But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore. How tight its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?

These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.

For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal — and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel — as I carve these seats in shapes of departure. Those skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.

My past was but a dream — and I'm ready to slide like a crumbling leaf. My weariness is universal. My knowledge heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.

Let me feed those roots anew.
Through and through.

If you cut a
Gecko's tail off
It'll grow back

If you do
It again
The gecko
Would be like
"Dude.."

I am pulling weeds from the garden and I want to scream "there is nothing wrong with you there is nothing wrong with you there is nothing wrong you"
I am replacing you with something beautiful and hard to maintain because I value appearances more than growth
There is nothing wrong with dandelions i swear, please do not develop a complex, I just cannot love you unless someone else does
My father spent years weeding me and trust me it gets easier
it hurts less if you learn to hate yourself the same way
There is nothing wrong with you I just have to do this he is coming over later and he might remember he doesn't love me if he sees you here
There is nothing wrong with you but I will **** you still
Like my father
Commended for everything I grow in the wake of what I ****
There is nothing wrong with you I scream but I will throw you away and you will wonder what is wrong with you anyway
He told me I have room to grow before hugging me goodbye
There is nothing wrong with you he said
I just don't want you here