Silence isn’t always silent
Sometimes silence itself
Is the answer we seek
Confessions, dreams, fears
Our greatest truths
Are hidden in our silence

You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken

I've looked bad but felt good
I've looked good but felt bad
I've looked bad and felt bad
I've looked good and felt good

I've failed so many times I can't count
I've learned so much I can't find individual moments

I have gradually increased

But I am finding myself

I am finding the confidence to strut out of my dorms like I'm walking on the runway
I have found myself so sad my body has become immobile

I am growing stronger

Physically. Mentally. Spiritually.

I am finding God in the most random moments, but when I do it is glorious

I find myself alone too often
I find myself feeling alone too often
I find myself hiding too often

I'm ready to let my potential loose
And become the lion I am meant to be

Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.

The same scroll and click, scroll and click.

Close.

Reopen,

Refresh,

Re-scroll.

I can't stop.

Who is this girl wearing my clothes? Who was this girl lying in my bed just a second ago? Surely she isn't the same girl who enjoys sneaking out to study the stars on a warm summer night, so what was she doing here? Who is this girl, walking in my ratty Vans?
Her eyes drooped from late nights of over thinking, making her age about ten years.
Look at her, she stood as if her legs would give out at any moment.  
Our eyes met for a fraction of a second before she looked away from embarrassment. She shouldn't be embarrassed.. She just needed a good nights rest and a nice meal for sure..  As I reached out to touch the ghostly girl, to let her know that everything was okay, my hands slid down the slick, cold glass that made up my dresser's mirror.
A morning routine.

He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come