I am good at hiding,
good at hiding my truths,
good at hiding my secrets.
My mask is a smile,
it disguises my frown,
it hides my flaws.
Tears can't be seen behind a smiling mask.

Why do people judge your name
        already?
You haven't even taken a breath yet.
You haven't even another half to you
        yet.

Your name is one of beauty,
one that shows strength.
It's like a jewel,
full of beauty, elegance, and
        strength.

Your name is after the one who
        fought and defeated my villains.
It's after the one who stood by me
when I stood alone on the sheet of
        ice
floating atop the melting sea.

I used to hate your name,
but the one it's after changed it all
        for me.
The one of the name gave me hope,
and I have hope for you.

Judgment is not necessary
for a name of a child unborn,
unconceived, unfathered.
A name is a name,
each with its own purpose,
its own story.

Your name is one dear to me,
a story I tell a whole lot,
one whose purpose is to give
        hope.

When I teach you,
I'll try to be kind.

I'll keep your dreams in mind,
and try my best to keep their
        breaths.

When I teach you,
I will hold your hand till the time is
        right,

and I know you can do it on your
        own.
And if you need me, for work or for
        safety,

know I'll always be there.
Because when I teach you,

it goes you then me,
you have dreams ahead while I live
        mine.

When I teach you,
I'll try to keep your dreams alive.

I am like the sky.

We blush at the same
        moments:
before the dark,
and before the light.

We don't know the difference.

People know because I show them my words,
I never say them.

This is how I express my sores,
I can never speak of them.

I physically can't.

She smells like the following:
farts,
****,
and baby powder,
but never at the same time.

She also thinks she kicked me out,
when in reality,
I was ready to leave.

She gives me looks of disgust,
like she's better than me.
But in all honesty,
she's the socially awkward one

who only has friends because they
were mine first.
She's the one who caused all our problems.

She left dirt in my bed
and denied it.
She touches and uses all my stuff
without asking me first.
Then she gets mad and offended
when I tell her not to do that.

She's a *****,
that's really all she is.
A smelly *****.
She's almost nineteen years old,
and smells and acts
like an infant.

My roommate is a *****,
and I hate her.
I am so glad I'm leaving.

I've always been told I overreact,
so now I underreact.
I could have been mugged,
and I'll tell myself that others
have had worse times
being mugged.

I tell myself my problems are small,
because I know there are worse ones out there.
I don't have it that bad.

I could have been stabbed in the ribs,
and think, People have had worse,
I'm no big deal.

I've been assaulted and abused,
but I know people who've had worse,
so I don't make a big deal about them…

…at least not out loud.