I know I’m meant to feel like the world is an oyster I have yet to crack, like the guts and savory things of life lie just beyond this seemingly impassable barrier of youth.

I am meant to love myself to love others, expected to be grown up but humble; for I am a child in a room full of adults whose legs are trees and I am a sapling not tall enough to reach the rays of sunlight that are experience and wisdom. But how am I to grow if you keep me in the shade. When will I be tall enough if you starve me with words of discouragement, deny me the promise that something lies beyond the world I know now. How will I ever reach for the skies when you tell me this is the best it gets. That I should be grateful for the lack of responsibility I have.

“Oh hush little sapling, you know nothing of the world beyond this grove.” But I know what it feels like to have storms sweep through, I have felt lightning on my skin as I witness injustice, and shameful rain as I stay rooted to the ground. I beg of you let me through! Part your branches so I may shoot forward into the sky, sing me songs of luck as I climb higher and higher, no longer sapling but great redwood, my skin may grow rough but I will grow richer; in all the things one needs for happiness. Rich in love. Rich in passion. Rich in character and empathy.

I will relish those savory things of life as they spill out before me, work to catch them before they are swallowed up by the unfortunate decomposition that happens to all missed opportunities.

And when you are tired and sunburnt, let me give you shade as you gave me, a great redwood child holding the sun up with her branches and the world down with her roots.

I can not fight back
I won’t listen when they tell me that
I can do this,  i can rebel, i can reach freedom.
Liberty
Is something i don’t believe in but instead i trust
Obedience
Reading
Is useless, what enlightens the mind is
Instruction
“Long live big brother”
I say, and  I refuse to believe
We don’t need  a leader that controls our perception of information
Conform.
Do not try to  
Rebel.
The population needs to
Trust that
The leader knows what’s right
Its naive to assume
I can fight back

darling,
you wear your depression
as a mask of undeniable normality-
don't say you're messed up.
it carves wells beneath your eyes,
streaks your face with a natural glow,
weighs down your heart
so you don't fly away to the stars...
away from us-
don't tell me it steals your beauty.
darling,
it keeps your pen going
during those early mornings
after all the caffeine
has run out
and your mind can no longer battle
the long, black fingers of sleep
grasping for you-
don't write any more society-approved lies.
it leaves art on your skin,
whether it be permanent
or with assorted colors of paint,
that tell stories,
your stories,
without words.
no longer hide the battles you've fought-
don't let others scorn your victories.

darling,
you are a masterpiece,
you are perfection.
don't let this depression
own you,
but become more than it.