You're there for me in ways
I cannot yet fully explain
I may not know your name
But our passion is the same

Let me share with you
What I feel, too
It took some time before I knew
This path we share, should be pursued

Through these words
We express our thoughts
Our fears, our desires
When our tongue's in knots

We doubt their power
Question its effect
Yet we continue to write
Adamant to perfect

The mark of an artist
Dedicated, through and through
Piecing together stories of beauty and heartache
For those unable to

We share a connection
Most won't understand
Old souls, storytellers
Stranger, take my hand

And remember, my friend
To believe in your words
From what I've read
It's imperative they're heard

© JL Smith

I looked in the mirror today
And saw three of me
Who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be

I brushed a stranger's hair and teeth
Until my brain started turning and realized
It
                               was
                                                             ­     me.

Who I was told who I am to be who I wanted to be
Without a reason or a plan and who I am is who I am
Until the seconds keep fleeting me

There isn't room in here for the three of me
Two visions showing one a life of who I'm supposed to be...
Did you see, do I see, will I see that I'm free to make the choices
That define my time?

My past is a mime etched in my image mimicking my future untold.
Will I be fine, or will I fold?

There isn't room in here for the three of me
Who I was, who I am, and who I wanted to be.