Instead of shaming people,
Why don't you help them?

Weathered branches reaching out to catch falling leaves
Still and hard with a rigid shell
Giving so others can breathe
Full and vibrant at its peak
Then bitter cold rolls around
Losing color, looking bleak
But stays rooted in the ground.
Peaceful, quiet, independent
Living on its own.
Battered, broken, standing tall, living life unknown.

Countless songs and poems
Dedicated to one thing
How a simple little word
Could be so inspiring

When I see that others have it
It makes a lot more sense
But when I think of it coming for me,
It's something I resent

Looks flawless from a distance
Desirable at times
But quickly many things can change
If you read between the lines

A drug that is both addicting
And causes enough harm
There's no chance of falling victim to its sneaky charm.

Why is this concept so easy
For everyone to grasp
While I'm out drowning
Waiting for this irrational fear to pass...

I'm not much on the outside
So no one ever cares
I'm not the girl who comes waltzing in
Expecting all the stares

But if you ever stop
As my bow crosses the string
And look me straight in the eye
I'll know you're listening.

Or if you skim my writing
And catch the emotions that I feel
You'll understand there's more to me
Than I'm willing to reveal.

I'm average on the outside,
My abilities as well
But the only way you really know me
Is to search beneath my shell.

Withered branches reaching out,
Catching fallen leaves
Stone cold outside
With many rings, no one would believe.

Peeling bark and twisting tendrils
Weaving through the grass
Standing tall and never resting
Watching the time pass.

Solitude and peaceful rays
When morning lights the sky
Casting shadows on the ground
Where deepest secrets lie.

Battered and bare for many seasons
But light and warmth can make
Sprouting blossoms, newfound life
To cover any break.

When someone asks me if I'm happy, I don't know what to say.
I have no reason to be sad, but what is happiness anyway?

Some synonyms are, fortunate, cheery, content, untroubled, delighted.
But some of that isn't true,
Fortune doesn't always make you happy, and untroubled is that way too.

The best way to be 'happy' or thankful for having life.
Is to go through struggles and overcome the temptation of a knife.

When someone asks me if I'm happy, I say that I can be.
I have seen enough pain and sorrow to cherish every good thing.

It's been more than a month, when is long enough?
When blades are blades and knives are knives,
Rather than relief for when times get tough.

How long do I wait, for dark scars to fade?
When will the urges be something to evade?

Why isn't anything innocent anymore?
Just new methods of pain, waiting to be explored.

How can I stop wishing that when I hold an edge,
It would slip, just a bit and I can have revenge.

But for now, I have to be patient,
And keep myself away.
From all the edges, points and harm that taunt me every day.