it's a resounding voice in my head,
"be more. be more. be more. be more. be more. be more."
there's a fire in my heart and
i can never feel enough in my own skin.
the world feels bigger than ever
and i feel smaller in the four walls of my bedroom,
and i want to do more
see more
feel more
be more
but i don't know how to.

i miss the aching cold of autumn and spring.
the winds would blow at any time of day and
although my skin would crack
and my knees would shiver,
i remember the way i would see my own breath
right in front of me whenever i'd laugh,
i remember walking around, burning my tongue
with the heat of the delicious street food,
i remember tucking my hands in my oversized coat
as i sat in the train and sped by little houses–

the happiness i felt in those days kept my little heart warm.

I look to you
And suddenly flowers grow in strange places—
Between alley ways, on top of jukeboxes, in my heart.
I could never forget the fragrance of your youth,
Seemingly arrogant without ever meaning to,
You spring out of confidence I would not blame you for having.

And you bloom so beautifully,
All the vines grow quickly just to be where you are,
And the sun comes out at dawn just to see you.

You fell so many times
But you stood up straight after each fall

You cried so many times
But you wiped out your tears and never surrendered at all

You failed so many times
But you still tried with much hope, not feeling small

Yes, you tried so many times
Believing that one day someone will hear your call...

sometimes i go off
about these worlds
that i make up
in my head.

because when the world
is so messed up,
don't you
want another?

i spend
so much time
just living
in these worlds,
     just thinking.

about
trivial things

     like:
how come clouds
get to be so high
that it's like they're flying,
when all they do is bring rain?

     or:
why do we spend
so much time
obsessing over the fact
that we don't have much time at all?

but i think
that maybe
in these worlds i make up,
it's not so bad.

sure,
there are bad guys
but when are there not?

the thing is,
in my world,
i'm not one of those
bad guys.

i'm the one
with the cape
and the mask
and i am the one
     who saves the day.

It comes without warning;
you can't choose whether
or not it happens to you.
It's a calling.
The act of someone needing you,
not someone else,
but you.
You are the hero they need
to save them,
before there's nothing left to save.
You stay up late trying to find ways to become this hero.
You and the caller talk as long as the caller wants.
While this might not be the ideal situation for the hero,
they do it anyways in order
to make sure the caller doesn't end.
The hero swoops in at every situation they can,
trying to convince the caller;
trying to say how much they're needed.
Many times,
they succeed.
The caller decides they want to see another day.
They want to stay strong.
That gives the hero relief,
and only pushes them to try harder.
But,
there always seems to be one final time
when the hero's too late.
This is the time where it's not only the caller's end,
but the hero's, too.
The hero hits zero;
the hero doesn't want to continue
when they know how they
could've prevented this.
And that's when the cycle restarts-
the only difference being the hero
is now the caller.
The new hero,
on the other hand,
unknowingly waits for the call;
the call that could save a hero's life.

This world
filled with so many lies and misconceptions,
I find it hard to thrive, hard to make meaningful connections.
Life constantly focused on money, what to buy, on endless consumption,
is not a life I want to live, and is one that I'll eventually walk away from.
For now, like most, I endure; life enjoyed is seldom.
Just trying to be myself,
trying not to lose my mind in this ****** up conundrum
we call society.