the moon is visible
the stars are scattered like splattered paint.

reminds me of how things were back then.
the days where I thought nothing could go wrong.

there was hope. there was light. there was the future.

but then the moon went away. the stars couldn't help but follow.
the rain took its place in the sky.

and there was deep water to tread.

but the moon was visible tonight. and the stars scattered the sky like splattered paint.

and there is joy and hope and a future.
and I am stronger.

I tear myself apart trying to be the best.

every day I go and try to be loved by those around me.
my desires to meet new people are selfishly driven by the desire
to show others the good parts of who I am.

to show you I am lovable.

every accomplishment, every compliment, every good thing I do
all I think is,
"that'll show her. I'm not that bad after all."

like I have to prove myself to you.

am I going to spend the rest of my life trying to show you why you should love me? why you shouldn't have left me here?

is every intimate worry I have wrapped up in the fact that I wasn't enough to please you?

-and i still can't even blame you

how utterly pitiful.

year after year,
every holiday,
being ruined
by the ones you love.

yet each year
excitement bursts through us.
we count down the days.
to eventually be
disappointed.

these smiles are forced.
exhaustion settles in.
and we tell ourselves,
"maybe next year will be better"

-is there something wrong with us?

I'm sorry-
my heart is pounding.
these thoughts are crowding
and I can't seem to tell them no.

I didn't mean to say that-
to do that.
You'll forgive me though, right?
You'll still love me?
Oh, you don't have to.
I understand.
I'll just be outside,
waiting to be let in.

Inconveniences.
They plague you.
Your skin isn't thick-
one scratch and there's blood.
The sun beats down on you
and you cower towards the shade.
I envy you.
I pity you.
Put your hands up and fight.
These blisters don't hurt me.
I've walked on eggshells,
I've swam through deep waters.
I'm sure I can find my way home
from here.

-I'm sorry we can't relate

burdened
by social customs.
this day has been dreaded ever
since I can remember.
every gift I got.
every card I wrote.
was to appease you.
and i'm still a prisoner.

I gave you a gift-
Truth.
And you regifted it
Into a weapon.

How can you question my actions
When yours throw swords into my chest?

-why can't I just give up?