So many poets write about their despair
Of not being loved back

"I'm so sad", they say
But at least they know what love is,
They've experienced the feeling
They've been caring,
And giving.

Do they know what I´d give
To love like they do...

"I'm heartbroken", they add
But do they know what it is
Not to have a heart that could be broken?

I'm
not
your
canvas;
you can't
paint over me.
My mistakes,
my life, it's whom
I want to be.
So go
_________
take your
_________
paintbrush
and your paint, too,
because I love my every
stain, and I'll keep every
color; red, green,
or blue.

"And,
What are you sad about today?"



"Well,
You see,
I'm sad about my sadness."

When you're told your whole life
"You're brilliant!", "You're so smart!",
"You're amazing at math!"
Naturally, you grow to agree
And your mind doesn't argue
Not too much, at least
Until you've walked so far
Down the path of intellect
That you realize
While it's beautiful,
So are many things
And within your soul
That fantastic mind
There are more than numbers
There is an artist screaming
"Don't leave me here!"
"Don't forget me!"
Banging on the gates
For you alone to liberate