The music swells
To an almighty crescendo
And I stand alone
In an empty room,
Arms held aloft
To welcome the
Sweep of emotion.
Hands dancing on the air,
Conducting
An invisible orchestra.
Tears seeping
Through closed lids.
Drained.
Exhausted.
Exhilirated.
In the moment.

english teachers detest me
because i never capitalize my i’s
but they never once bothered
to come and ask me why

uppercase is a privilege
at least, it is in my mind.
it’s reserved for war heroes
or a painter who is blind

i have done nothing remarkable
i have hardly even tried
everything good i’ve done
is eventually cast aside

why do i deserve an uppercase?
or for that matter, why do you?
we’ve done plenty of bad
when there’s plenty of good to do

english teachers detest me
because i never capitalize my i’s
but i will have reason to someday
and i hope that is not a lie

i once heard a story about a man who healed people for a living.
he'd make them laugh & mend their hollow, broken souls.
he'd assist them with their problems until they started to feel whole.
but in his mending of other people, he'd break inside every day,
as he used the substance his soul was comprised of
to glue the broken souls together.
until one day, he had none.
he had become so broken & empty that he felt he couldn't go on.
he went to a spiritual advisor & told him about his depression.
the spiritual advisor said, "there is a man named The Healer down the road that can make you laugh & heal your soul so that you may feel whole. go to him."
the man started crying & said, "but... i am The Healer."
he spent his whole life healing.
... but who heals the healer?
who nurses the nurse?
who listens to the one who's always listening?
we that take care of others must face a horrible reality  —

that no one can take care of us.