We’ve always
learned in school
that if you were found
to have written
something that
someone else wrote
(even unintentionally)
you would be
reprimanded.
But even then
I've always wondered;
out of the billions
how could I
possibly
be so unique?

Come as you are,
              not how you ought to be

My eyes are strained against an LCD,
my fingers mindlessly tapping away.

                                                          ­        [My eyes are on the road,]
                                                          ­        [my fingers intertwined with yours.]

I look up at the clock,
the entire day is behind me now.

                                                           ­       [I look up at my rearview,]
                                                      ­            [the entire city is behind me now]

I lean back in my office seat
and let out a sigh of exasperation.

                                                  ­                [I lean back in the driver's seat]
                                                           ­       [and let out a sigh of content]

The droning sound of the printer
drags with my monotonous heart.

                                                         ­         [The melodic sound of your laughter]
                                                       ­           [lifts my symphonic heart]

I work until the sun drops

                                                               ­   [We drive until the sun rises]

                                                  and then
We drive.
                                                          ­        [I work.]

I roar with a bravado
that echoes throughout
the deepest caverns
of brave souls

yet with every time
there lies a risk
of my own reverberations
shattering my heart

I am fragile glass
fashioned into
the fearsome form
of a lion

I have been chiseled at by
Father Time and Mother Earth,
carved away by my pains
and my worries.

I am no façade;
there is nothing ornate
about me designed to
hide something heinous

I can shatter
just as easily
as my mother’s
prized china set

But I roar on
even as I chip away;
my joints creaking
and my body scorched.

Do not mistake my
scratches and cracks
for weakness,
I have demons of my own.

I walk this ground
with the hope
that my roars,
in spite of my fragility,

will instill a sense of hope
into all of you
with glass hearts
such as mine.

My mind is a cøffer øf cømført,  
  take what yøu will at yøur lesiure.
    Wørry nøt øf replenishing the reserves.
      My arms are an øpen ørphanage–
        shøuld løve and høpe have passed away,
          find refuge frøm the cøld
            biting winds øf apathy in my arms.
              Sip frøm my pøøls øf patience
                and extinguish the flames øf frustratiøn
                  that grøw deep within yøu.
                    If yøu have guns før hands
                      then secure the safety              
                        and always pøint at my perseverance,
                          never at yøur persøn.
                            When yøu are weak,
                              knøw that my knees will knøck
                                 but I will cøntinually carry yøu
                                   till the end øf yøur days.

I tell people that there are two kinds of days.

There will be days where you wake before the sun and roar out into the untouched day, pawing at the ground with a fierce conviction to take your day as you like it. These days, your very footsteps will shake the ground beneath you while your enemies run haphazardly, tripping over their own feet in order to avoid your fearsome self.

There will be days where your ears twitch at the slightest suggestion of confrontation and conflict, and you scurry about your day through the shadows. These days, your frantic heart can't take much of anything, and the vastness of the faraway horizon makes your limbs shudder and quake.

When your day falls into the former category, remember that even as you strut around with your lion-heart, there are timid mice who move hurriedly about your feet. Remember to watch your steps and mind your roars.

When your day is one of the latter, remember that lions aren't necessarily monsters, and know that their claws can be sheathed and their velveted paws can also comfort. They know nothing of soft steps and whispers.

Find comfort in the cacophony of roars and in the solemn silence of tail-twitches.