You're the greatest one here, and everyone knows.
The best people stay, the bad ones go.
You constantly remind us about your strength,
your list goes on, far in length.
The rest of us are rocks in your road.
But you've kicked us away, and there you strode.
We've been below you since that day.
But you don't care about us anyway.
You're the queen of the hill, the rest of us ants.
Crown on your head, you always enchant.
You're bigger and better, the rest of us small.
We mean nothing to you at all.
Maybe it's okay that we fit in the cracks.
Go back on the road, and here we'll backtrack.
I don't need to trample like you.
Kings and queens are overthrown too.

She said her dreams
became a reality,
but nightmares
are dreams too.

you treat me like i'm the only one in your world
but then i realize you treat everyone like that

Why? Why must I always put everyone first? You'd think if you're nice to them, they'd be nice back. That's what the Golden Rule is. But sometimes, rules can hold us back; forgetting that the real world doesn't always obey them.

But I do.

Maybe it's true that I care about what people think of me. I tell myself that I am not insecure, but people hear what they want to hear. I tell myself that I have so many friends because we're nice to each other. If someone asks me to cheer them up, I let them know how beautiful and worth it they are. Whatever I tell them, it's true. How many people will say the same about me? Why do I even care? Why is it that I'm always nice, but don't receive it in return?

My happiness is a bowl of cookies. Here, take one. Take as many as you'd like and pass it around like confetti, even to those who have hearts made of stone. They're yours now.

Seeing everyone eat my cookies makes me smile. I look down, and notice that all I have for myself are crumbs. That's okay. Maybe someone will come around with cookies of there own. But when I see someone walking away with their own cookie in their mouth, I know I'd been skipped over.

I have no energy to bake more cookies. What is left to fuel me? What can I do to feel happy?  All of my cookies are gone, because I had let them take one.

I had let them do this to me. Now my heart can't soar free. I let them put me in pain and boil the blood flowing through my veins. I regret what I have done, now I must miss out on all of the fun.

Because I allowed people to hurt me, even if it meant I left a good impression.

The Golden Rule. Not everyone follows it. But I did.

Dear you,

I guess I don't know how to speak to you in person. Well, I have before. Talking to you used to be so easy, like walking from one room to the next. Now, I remind myself which foot to step with. And when I'm finally in the next room, you are no longer there. Instead, the lights burn out, leaving me in the darkness.

You used to be my light. When I couldn't find a seat in a crowded room, you lit the way to the empty seat beside you. When you wrapped your arms around me, sparks grew into fireworks. Both of our smiles could set the world on fire.

When you told me how beautiful I was, I swore the stars shone brighter. There was no dark side of the moon, just as there were no dark side of you.

Instead of being the night, you were my knight. You waved your silver sword, daring anyone to try and hurt me. No one would try, for they know who they will have to get through first.

But this entire time, I was so focused on you keeping others out that I didn't realize who was slowly creeping in.

You.

You pointed your sharp sword at my heart. I cried so hard, begging you, "Please, don't hurt me." I cried so much that tears fell into my mouth, choking me while oceans fell from my eyes. It didn't matter in the end.

You were deaf.

Your sword struck, hard. Your hateful words and actions filled into me like a disease, while happiness flowed out of my heart.

I'm still alive. I'm still breathing.

When I look into the mirror, I see the person I used to be. Scars and all. I see the girl who loved you. I see the face that you once called beautiful.

How I wish I could hear your voice again.

I guess I don't know how to speak to you in person. Not anymore.

Instead of pouring tears, I'm pouring words. Words that you need to hear.

This is to you.

From,

Me