It is so beautiful here...
I used to think being sad
was something of beauty.
Then it dawned on my heart,
that life is so much more than dark words
or feelings I can choose not to have.

Believe me, I have felt your pain.
I have been more attached to depression,
because it at least would not let me down.  
I have known the death that is life.
I walked a road that was gray and damp...
and I was alone.

Though I haven't got the happiness I think I want.
I know that I have been gifted
with the joy of God.
I know that my troubles may seem terrible in the night,
but peace, rest, love, joy, goodness, kindness, and blessings
all come as
soon as
I choose
to see
it.

Ozymandias was a conqueror, a man that lay low kingdoms,
and yet is now a pillar of dust.

This, dust beneath us, is all that shall remain.

Love is all that we have of ourselves,
the only thing worth giving,
   or taking,
which stands the test of time.

These times strike monied worldlings with dismay:
Even rich men, brave by nature, taint the air
With words of apprehension and despair:
While tens of thousands, thinking on the affray,
Men unto whom sufficient for the day
And minds not stinted or untilled are given,
Sound, healthy, children of the God of heaven,
Are cheerful as the rising sun in May.
What do we gather hence but firmer faith
That every gift of noble origin
Is breathed upon by Hope’s perpetual breath;
That virtue and the faculties within
Are vital,—and that riches are akin
To fear, to change, to cowardice, and death?

It's easy as a poet to turn yourself into the flawed broken ideal you so readily romanticize at any given moment
You adapt generational buzzwords like
"Pale" or "thin" or "depressed" or "bipolar"
To make up for the places you feel dull or average
You long for someone to write about you like you write about your lovers or friends
So you set yourself up like a john green character
Beautiful
Distant
And empty
You spout tumblr religion and intellectual quotes
You become as paper thin as the characters from those novels our generation can't seem to get enough of
Predictable
Sad
Romanticized to the point of extinction
You survive on maybe three good quotes and self inflicted lack of sleep
In pursuit of becoming the lie you loved youve become the truth you hate
Millennial icon
The cycle continues with you.