Do you remember when this town belonged to you?
I do

But things aren't what they were

And what's the point of droning about this point?

What have you got to mourn?

The idea in your head
Of the people you left
When you went two hours away
And where they had to stay

You just don't know what to do with yourself
And your feelings,
But that's not new

Rest easy
Be still
And know
Things are gonna be okay

Even if the job *****
Even if the average age of the town you live in is 67
Even if it takes a while to get back into the flow
Even if the flow isn't what you want in life

It's where you are
And it's your job to affirm that position

Because it's all poetry
And it all belongs

I am not the creator of my morality
I am its slave

Walls building buildings block my intention
From blossoming into action

Handed down from others, placed there by others
The walls almost crush me while they fall

And it is as if I had no choice in the matter
As if inside me there is a moral code
Copied and pasted from my father

From the Bible, from the Founding Fathers
From the Constitution, from a Glenn Beck book

As a wall breaks and crumbles, so does a piece
Of my identity

See, what are we if not our identities?
That blonde heartbreak of a person was always right about that
She was just wrong about the validity of the morals

If morality is subjective, there is nearly no hope for existence
And if morality is not crafted intentionally, therein lies more nihilism

If I am a construction wholly of other people's opinions
Who am I really?

I am not the creator of my morality.
Parts of my identity have been taken out
Replaced by other walls
Other edifices that I think are stronger

But I had no choice in the matter.
Neither my deconstruction nor my upbringing
Were voluntary actions
Yet they matter the most in determining my actions

Therefore,

I am not the creator of my morality
I am its obedient slave

Consider the possibility
That your 4.0 GPA
Is the result of your failing mental health
And inability to accept yourself

Consider, for once,
That you are valuable innately
Regardless of approval

I see your deepest fears
And they're not you
And they don't define you

You are not the terrible feeling
Or the words you tell yourself
When you read that ****** grade

You're also not those butterflies
When they look you in the eyes
And tell you you're valuable

You just are

By yourself


Stop selling
Yourself
To the words
Others say

And when you feel that way
That's not where you have to stay

Listen to that 7th track on that old album
Even if its theology is ****** and shameful
You know what it meant to you when you were young

And when you feel that way
Stand in front of a mirror and say

"I am worth more
than others' estimation of me"

Because that is the real root of the root
That is the true bud of the bud

That you are valuable regardless
Of whether you have a witness

And even if you were the tree falling
Free falling in a wood
Your lumber still makes homes
You leaves still make paper
Your heart still has value
Because

You
Are
Valuable