You always told me to keep my head held high,
To not worry about it.
It's better to look at the stars and the tree tops than your sore blistered feet,
Reminding you about how badly you want to stop.
But what's so bad about stopping and looking around,
Taking in every face and sweet emotion,
Watching the leaves fall and the sun rise,
And maybe I'll get to see that beautiful smile of yours.
You are my best friend, but for once let's hold hands and dance in an open field,
Let's pick flowers and when I try to put them in your hair,
Just let me,
For once let's not worry about pleasing everyone and just be ourselves.
Tell me,
What would you do if no one got hurt? If no one judged you?
Would you tell me I look pretty today,
Tell someone that it's not me, it's you,
Or maybe look around a little?
It's your turn to watch the waves crash,
And the birds taking flight.
It's your turn to be held not to hold,
It's your turn to pick the moon out of the sky and play frisbee with the angles instead of hangman on the back of your will,
Don't hold back.
For once let your hair grow out just to tell your kids,"yeah I had a pony tail",
Cut it all off,
Give it to charity,
So your neighbor with breast cancer can say "yeah I have a pony tail",
And for once in your life do it because you can.
Not because it's the right thing to do,
To say,
Or to think,
For once stop looking up for answers and care for your sore, blistering feet.
I mostly write spoken-word. I wrote this about a month ago after a long drought of not writing anything, not even any of my prose. Critique is more than welcome!