Don't stare at me

If I stare
You
The same way
The very next moment
You will be
Turned into
A Poetry

Remember that

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you

But the roses are wilted
The violets are dead
The sugar bowl is empty
And my wrists are stained red

I step up to the edge, the breeze blowing my hair.
I close my eyes and I can see it.
My feet leave the ground as my wings catch the wind.
I’m flying.
But, when I open my eyes, I’m not soaring
and my feet are still on solid ground.
What if I fall?
I can’t risk it, that pain.
I look around and see others fearlessly facing the plunge,
but I remain frozen in place.
Scared.
All I can think is, “What if I fall? What if I fall?”
It’s then, in the midst of my frantic thoughts,
That I hear a still, small voice say,
“Yes, but what if you fly?”

I was not born a

poet.

I was broken into

one.


*Sandoval