Tears and water are similar
but have dissimilar
tastes.

At my birth I drew my first breath...
my cries an announcement of my existence
My arrival.
And yet as I walk upon the water,
I stare and see you, a cold spectre above my crown.
Though I age, I feel your air circle around me.
As I age, I see your wings are aglow.
As I age, I'm nearing, nearing towards you.
And yet you stand, everstill and true.

Bask in your originality
for all the world
to see.

Make sure that you find
before you seek.

I grew up being both loud and quiet.
I grew up speaking but was never heard.
I grew up seeing but was never seen.
I grew up helping others only to be back-stabbed.
I grew up proud but clouded by shame.
I grew up with writing because it was healing.
I grew up told I was ugly, never beautiful.
I grew up thinking I would never be good enough.

In short,
I grew up a rather lonely, sad, broken little girl.

I told others to keep going but I never followed
through with my own advice.
Hence my philosophy of,
"It's better to walk away than fight and be right."
Which is why I don't like arguing.
My doubts were so big that I was trapped
down a well,
drowning in my
LOW SELF-ESTEEM
DEPRESSION
ANXIETY
FEARS
PARANOIA
and wearing my heart on my sleeve,
all the while.

I didn't see who I was in my reflection,
I just saw negativity and I would cry uncontrollably.
I know I can't get back the time I've lost.
I can't restart my life with a push of a button.
I'm still a girl in a woman's body.

If only I knew everything I know now
when I was...
when life was more simple.

I want to feel proud enough that nothing
that can bind my wings.
To everything I dream.
Everything I want to be.
Not just lil ol' me.
Scared little Lyn...

As the sands of time run,
wisdom comes with every deed I do.
Every mistake I made.

Sweet Sibyls of eld
who sing of mysteries held
My envy flowers

How I yearn to see
The written future for me
Miracles and pain

Do I want to know?
What you see in crystal *****?
The magic's in me...

A concrete angel
runs her fingers through
silver strings.

Lose yourself
in the depth of her
sad blue eyes.

She glides over
streams of restless arms,
an empyrean light
flying through umbran
constellations.

She is neither
deaf nor numb to
their pain as her harp
sings with sweet sadness.
As she wonders...

How strange and sad it is
that death gives peace
more than life ever did.