the way the rain peppers itself across the pane
giving spice to my plain, dreary, life
i lock my fingers with my own
as if to numb the pain
of being alone
the way
you
look at me
gives me hope
like no other before you
i do not feel the need to hide
the parts of myself i feel arent worthy
i never wonder why im the way that i am with you
because to wonder is to distract myself
from the wonder that is you

Everyone has a general feeling of their own mind
She did not quite understand exactly how her mind was like
Until she started writing down all her feelings
Writing them down felt like she was organizing her own thoughts
Like looking at each small picture and then taking a step back to see the bigger picture, and fully understand it
She finally understood how her mind was like now
Hers felt so much pain and sadness
So gloomy
It was a quiet rain storm
The only thing she heard in her head was the demons telling her:
"don't eat"
"you're not good enough"
"no matter how hard you try to be special and be someone for someone, it will never happen".

it took only one word
"goodbye"

It flies amongst the stars.
Flashes for a moment.
Despite the left scars.
Holds a place close, yet far.

It carries the fallen.
From mistaken paths.
To reaches impossible.
And develops new plans.

It creates new countries.
Raises dead soldiers.
Stamps unsung heroes.
With a feeling of free.

Hear its silent sound.
Open up your eyes.
Place it in your heart.
Elevate from the ground.

It helps us climb.
Better than rope.
Do you see its shape?
It is hope.

If you can keep your head when all about you
  Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
  But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
  Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
  And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
  If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
  And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
  Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
  And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
  And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
  And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
  Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
  Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
  If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
  With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
  And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!