On a wall,
Hangs dreams and memories.                  
There hangs inspirations and wanna-bes.  
Love, life, youth, happiness.                        
Even the old to young to have died.

Taken away, gone like a summer breeze.    
The breath of the city stagnant and stale.    
Once so alive, but now                            
frozen in photographs.

We learn as if these people had no souls.          
As if they were nonhuman objects,                
A tumbleweed in the wind.                          
But what we failed to see                            
was the fire that burned in them.

On a wall,
Hangs what I forgot to remember.
There hangs the faces assigned
To the names engraved in memorials
And textbooks and minds.

On a wall,
Hangs the unknown before
To the well known after.
There hangs the dreamers,
The lovers, the futures.

On my mind,
Hangs people that should have been,
But never were, and couldn’t have been.

The countdown has ended
Is set to zero.
Those 50 days
over.

Like the days of freshman year
when you sat nervously in class
waiting for the teacher to call on you.
Or to see your boyfriend after school.
Will he kiss you tonight?

Or like sophomore year
when the nights seemed so long
and the days were wars
and every ounce of you
was waiting for an end.
The stinging keeps you awake
but it also keeps you alive.

The days are over
done, gone,
like in junior year
when you found yourself.
It was like being reborn,
beautiful and full of joy.

But now those are just memories.
In those days,
you forgot to appreciate
the smiles of those
you never really knew.
And you forgot to let go of the bad
and to love your mom.

You didn't memorize the sound
of the cheering crowd at games.
You never said hi
to the cute old people in the front of the school.
You never visited past teachers.
Maybe you never even thanked them.

And now the time is gone.
You walked across the stage months ago
and are in the car to drive 5 hours away
to your new start,
your new countdown.

The sun,
The moon,
The stars.
Such beauty there is in those.

But you are as beautiful
As the flowers you picked for your mother
And as the sunset you watched with your first love.

You eyes hold the galaxy, darling.
You are as strong as the trees,
And as graceful as the tide.

Love yourself
Like the sun loves the moon
And like the sea loves the land.
Admire your bumpy skin
Like the mountain ranges.

Love yourself
The way you love
That little thing called nature,
For she is your mother
And a daughter is made
With the same beauty.