Listen,
All I know is
I'm full of wounds
And scars
And broken
Parts

But I am still
Standing
On my feet.

So, let me tell you,
I don't know what this thing is--
Defeat,
Or whatever you call it.

I'm still going to be walking,
Moving forward.
No dream or memory,
Or flashback
Will keep me from moving onward.

I am full of wounds
And scars
And broken
Parts.

But I am still standing.

I write word after word after word
Backspace backspace backspace

Not good enough.

Needs to be

Better.

Isn't that how it always is,
Though?

Wanting to be better
And better
And better than that.

Nothing is good enough,
Right?

You rewrite and rewrite
And change your clothes
And change your clothes again.

You make a cup of tea,
But there's too much honey,
So you drink it and make it again,
This time there's not enough.
I swear the only reason I stay hydrated
Is because I keep remaking these cups of tea.

And I go and change my clothes,
And I rewrite and rephrase that sentence
And then that scene
And then this stanza,
And then I change my clothes again
All in hopes
To be better
Than before.

When will I be good enough
For myself?
Enough that I am even
Good enough for you?

Too casual, change into something cute.
Too cute, change into something ****.
Ugh, why bother?

The fear of never being good enough
Eating away at my brain,
And my brain screams and cries
Striving at perfection
That I'll never
Achieve.

life has always been a tough thing to understand. to grip onto.
the tighter your grip was, the stronger you valued your life.
but what if your grip became weak?
what if, no matter how hard you tried to grip the bars of life, your fingers continued to slip?
sometimes, you have no control over how tight your grip is.
i always was considered physically and mentally weak.
not only would my grip become frail,
but even on those days where my grip was strong enough to get my head above the bars,
my tears would fall without thinking,
and the bars of life became toxic and wet
and my fingers would slip
and i would fall.
sometimes it's better with nothing to grip onto.

When a song touches the place,
that makes me warm.
I play it again and again.
But this much I've learned-
Don't play it too much.
Less it lose its grandeur.
Like when others complain,
that the cold that once kissed their face
now brings pain.
I will not see it this way.
No let me be washed by the beauty
of life.
And let it not be my everything.

Something about you makes me fade
You fill up my empty space
You make me feel safe
And I never want this to end
Let's write our names in the times of sand
He's not only my everything but he understands
And that's all they need to get

I love being snuggled up in his bed
Or wearing his t-shirts he never gets back
I'm just happy with what I have
Everyday I see him in class
And all I think about is me sneaking out of his window
It was see-through glass