I will not

condemn

you for the
problems
that you
have.

I often look at the hands
of others and wonder how
they look so soft, when did
mine become so rough, why
aren't I pretty like them? Why
aren't I pretty like them? Why
can't I be pretty
like them?

I am standing here,
breathing deep in the cold brittle air.
Trying to find you.

Cobblestone paths,
and old broken roads,
I travel for days,
that quickly turn to years.

I've seen these places before,
but they seem pure and new.
Still searching.
Always searching.

It’s like you're walking on
unbreakable ice,
and I’m underneath you trying to fight through.
The current keeps pulling me,
further.

There you are.
Just above me.

Still searching.
Always searching.

I can see your shadow, your outline.
The cold blurs your face.
Only, I know it’s you.

While we search and wonder
still, the current pulls me further.

For now I’ll just be here under skies and ice,
trying to breathe,
as I wonder below you.

Preparing for the right,
and expecting the average, no less.


Still searching.
Always searching.

Today was the first
time in a long while
that I have laughed
so hard I have cried
where I cannot stop
would not stop, and
though it might not
last I was happy, a
true kind of

happy

I stand here as a woman,
as a stubborn girl with pride.
I stand here as a college student,
one just trying to get by.
I stand here as a writer,
with no words to heal the pain.
I stand here as a mother
with two angels to my name.
I stand here as a testament,
to every failed suicide.
I stand here as a story,
where it goes I will decide.