We are small blobs of imperfections and
I don’t care what the world says
I see this beauty, I hear this beauty, and
I will fight for this beauty
That we call love
They will try to bring you down
But I will raise you up
We will eventually realize
That this is enough
I am me and I am hopeful
And I will sing a hymn to all the soulful
Poets out there whose hearts speak in broken lines
All the lost
All the forgotten
All the love in us which has faded in time
Because the world keeps on shrinking
And our hearts keep on sinking
To what the naysayers say
That we gotta take all our metaphors and brokenness away
If we ever want to integrate in this society
And live happily, normally, as they see
And now we have forgotten how to truly live
Forgotten that it takes rising and falling to ever truly give
Our broken selves to the ones who need it the most
Which is in our own arms, how long has it shouted its throes
And now we need to tell the poet in us that we can try again
Write again, fight again, and be ourselves against the world
And someday soon, I know we will be heard
Cause although we are small blobs of imperfections
Perfection has always been a lie
We are who we are
And we can, and we will, write our own broken lines

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
A dire lack of coffee
And a groggy feeling that stays with you
Sometimes throughout the day
Telling you how lovely it would just be
To find a bed and immerse yourself once again
In a dream where things would be better -

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
The sun bustling through your windows
Hitting your face annoyingly with a
"Wake up! There are things to do."
And you check your phone and the ring it makes
Buzzes through your ears and you just want it to stop, stop, sto-

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
When you wake up to birds which poems say to appreciate
But really, you're not in a Disney movie
They chirp too much and it hurts your brain, unlike what the poems say
And it doesn't help when you wake up to urban noise pollution
And you can only wish you didn't have to wake up to this at all
To responsibilities, checklists, and a living hell -

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But there are indeed a great few
What I found out recently, what loving could do
To this sleep-deprived heart of mine
It seems that coffee, darkness, a lack of birds, and silence
Are no longer needed to get me off this bed willingly
Because I've found the reason to

There aren't many good things to say about mornings
But when you realize you're waking up to a reality that holds this great few
You begin to see the beauty in tiredness, light, birds, and sounds
That you've never seen before until now
Because just like how there will always be bad things in life
There are good things too

Love.
Hope.
Cookies.
Cats.
Smiles.
Your favourite songs, books, and poems.
Your favourite shows.
Your favourite poetry site.
Your favourite coffee.
Your favourite food.
Your favourite voice.
Your favourite people.
Your favourite jokes.
Your favourite smile.
That certain somebody you're thinking of right now -

I know.

And it takes waking up to see that.

So although there aren't many good things to say about mornings,

I suppose...there are enough to get us through next one, don't you think?

Years and years
Of living
Through the many
Versions of love
Has taught me
That, Love,
If true,
Is light
And no one
That has it to give
Hides it under a bushel
Left to the imagination
Of the one
It was meant for

That love, is loud
It was created
To be seen,
Heard
As much as it is felt.