Because I don’t have the patience to perfect brush strokes.
Because my hands always fidget when I attempt to draw a circle.
Because I don’t have the depth perception to draw out shades.
Because I don’t have the eye for fonts & how to center them.
Because the only fonts I consider bad are Comic Sans & Papyrus.
Because my photos are always blurry.
Because I have too much fun turning my skin green in Photoshop.
Because why create my own actions when there are filters I can use?
Because I don’t have time to practice with an instrument.
Because my singing is alright, but I’m no Adele.
Because I’m not coordinated enough to be a dancer.
Because I’m an artist with no “real skill”.
Because sometimes a picture says too much.
Because a song will sometimes not say enough.
Because vice versa.
Because I have so much to say.
Because only the right words can say what’s on my mind.

Congratulations on your new job!
You have been chosen to do this task.
This job belonged to another but she quit.
Now, you have the power.
I see potential in you.
I think you have what it takes.

Why did I hire you?
Because I could tell you had depth.
That there was more to you than what others see.
But don't blame them.
I am the only one who can notice these things.
Don't you agree?

The Garden gives & takes, & I give to & take from the Garden. I was hungry, it gave me fruit. I would only eat it if I agreed to share it. I was thirsty so I drank the water. In return, I gave my life and now I thirst no more. A boy was in the Garden. He believed I was made from his rib, but he was not Adam & I am not Eve. He was inflicted by poison, & I gave everything I could to help him, but I wasn't a cure. I tried to share the fruit, but he refused to take it. One day, something in me had changed. I realized I had lost something important. What was once essential & something that I could do, I could no longer do. I left the Garden for a while, thinking the boy would stay there. I had hoped to never return unless the boy was gone. In my absence, the Garden still gave. I packed some fruit in a sack, & poured water in a bottle, thinking I would get by. Eventually, I knew I would have to go back. I knew I was meant to be there. I had been gone for so long. I've become numb. I came back hoping to see blossomed flowers , to feel the wind blowing, to feel any sort of sensation or awe. The Garden was just as beautiful upon my return as it was before. The boy was finally gone. I knew he wouldn't wait there forever, but now I feel nothing. The tools used to decipher emotions had become corrupt as a result of my heart's malfunction. I either can't feel anything, or I refuse to. I feel as though I have become a machine with no feeling. I sometimes doubt I ever will feel again. In times like these, I go to the Garden. The Garden's fruit gives me energy. The water heals my wounds. I still feel numb, but my life is still indebted to the Garden, & I will continue to press on.

I made a tiara out of Queen Anne's lace,
To make a queen out of me.
I saw your face in a picture,
You looked like you wanted set free.
I took a dandelion on that same summer day,
& I blew off every last seed.
I don't know why yet,
Why you were so upset
I had nothing left to feed.

I made my way to the wedding,
& I prayed for my own beautiful chance.
My favorite part was when the room would quell
As the bride & groom would dance.
I suppose I should have known,
By the sound of your tone,
You did not receive proper desistance.
My body got weak,
When I found you so meek.
But my mind was constructing my stance.

Want to know the secret
To a long happy life?
Well it’s rather simple

First,
There’s this thing called
The Golden Rule.
If you don’t know what that is,
Then you’re a fool.
Get out of that rock you’ve been living under,
What it means is this:
Be a gentleman,
Hold the door open for others,
Because odds are,
At least five people will hold a door for you.
If you see a starving man,
Feed them.
Because odds are,
If you end up living in a box,
At least five people will feed you

Second,
Get Cultured.
Read a book or two.
Because odds are,
There’s a story about you.
Paint a Picture
Even if you’re color blind
Because odds are,
It’s art in someone’s eyes.
Broaden your horizons
The close minded are weak.
Learn a new language
Try a different way to speak
Or sign
Or write
Or even read

Third,
Learn to cook for others
Something people can at least chew
Because odds are,
At least five people have cooked for you.
Don’t be afraid to spice things up
Have a taste for something
Even if no one else craves it.
Let someone else lick the spoon
If they dare.

Fourth,
Listen to a new sound
Music that is true
Because odds are,
Someone is singing for you.
If your heart is broken,
There’s a song for that
If you’re just mellow
There’s a song for that too.
If you’re looking for a song with meaning
With words of a poet
Or you’re just wanting to feel inspired
Odds are,
Someone’s got you covered.

Five
Be brave
Choose the bolder thing to do
If glasses make you look smarter,
Then go ahead and wear them
Whether you need them to see or not
They may serve as a good luck charm
& help you pass that test you’ve cracked open book after book over
Or to help you understand that novel you’ve been reading
If you’re not too bold for red
Wear it proud
Either on a dress that flows to your rhythm
Or on your lips as you pucker up with pride.
If others have an opinion
You can pick & choose which ones matter
But I advise you not to choose any at all
Just smile & wave as if you’re saying
“Thanks anyway, but I’m fine.”
Because odds are,
At least five people have judged you
While five others have secretly admired you
& have even embraced your unique qualities

Finally
Embrace your roots as much as possible
As much as you’ve dreamed of city lights
& hated country living
The fact is that’s where you came from
& it has value.
Because it has made you partially who you are
But don’t forget that you are also your own person
Your soul is your own as well as your life
There are some things that only you can possess
You have lots of perks
As well as your quirks.
Maybe you have the ability to see through the dark
& notice the light in the most complicated things
& you have no fear as you venture your way to it
Maybe you’re brave enough to jump off a waterfall
Cannonballing into a strong current
One that goes a different direction than your used to
Maybe you’re the kid who makes a wish upon a star
Or upon the clock at 11:11
& even though it doesn’t come true you keep wishing
Maybe you’re the kid who thinks wishing is overrated
So you say a prayer instead
& you don’t just bow your head
Because that’s just a minor detail God doesn’t pay mind to
You know He just wants to hear you
At least someone does
Maybe you’re the one who takes action
& would more likely lead a protest for no reason
Than stand on the sidelines with a reason to
Maybe you’re the kind of man who is confused by art
While your children can only paint pictures to get a message to you
Maybe you’ll be a proud mother
Of another mother’s baby.
Maybe you’ll live the longest
Out of anyone on this planet.
Maybe you’ll cure cancer.

“Keep Calm & Carry On”
I see on everyone’s mugs
Maybe this whole thing is absurd
You can correct me if I’m wrong about it all
But I will stand for what I believe
& I will keep what is mine.
I expect everyone to do the same.

This oak tree
Stands so tall,
It’s so thick, it can stand against
Any windstorm, at any day
Wind is all that comes out your mouth

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.

This oak tree
Moves with grace.
It moves and sways to the breeze.
Its branches, arms in the air,
Move to the sound of hallelujah

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t, set me free.

& you just keep breaking me.
I just wish your love was stable,
& I wish your love was free.
Cut the oak tree down
So fast &hard; that others hear.
A million could.
If you’re going to build a cabin,
At least have a foundation,
Or just turn me into firewood.
& burn it like our bridges.

But this oak tree
Doesn’t say much,
It doesn’t say anything at all
It has nothing to say to you

I’ve got nothing on you
Nor do you on me.
If you claim me, keep me.
If you don’t let me be free.
Let me be me.

It only takes a few minutes
For lighting to flash,
& to make a tree fall.
A tree so tall it almost touched the sky
A tree that provided for its creatures
Bearing fruit from a branch
As if it were a human
Holding out their hand saying,
“This is for you”.
It stands no longer,
With no more to give.
While skies are grey
Darkening the world
With no sign of sunlight
We were birds trying to fly
While our wings were wet
A futile effort.
We were drenched,
we were cold,
& we were tired
Tired of fighting this storm.
When the wind stopped blowing,
& the sun started glowing
Through a gap between the clouds
I felt dry,
I felt like it was safe to leave.
So I did.
But I was cold & alone,
So I came back for you.
You welcomed me with open arms
& we danced all night.

There’s a bird perched on a tree high above me
He’s singing,
Singing is what he does best.
As he’s singing, I try to sing along
And I’m waiting for affirmation
I’m wanting to know
If I’m singing this song right,
Or if I’m singing it wrong.
It’s his song, not mine
& he’ll sing it all he wants to.
The bird has taken off, and I’m chasing him,
I am running so fast and so far
I’ve finally found him.
He was tired of the buckeye tree
So he perched himself on a Cactus.
I asked him, “What’s so special about a cactus?
Come back to the Buckeye Tree!”
But the bird just started singing his song again.
So I sing with him.
Now I have a new song that I want to show him.
I want him to sing my song with me.
So I started singing it,
But he’s not singing along,
Just his own song.
The seasons have just changed.
His feet are sore from that thorny Cactus
& he’s about to take flight again.
Maybe now he’ll want the buckeye tree
So he’ll be at home with me.
There he goes, he’s flying away!
So I’m running as fast as I can
I’m trying to catch up
But this isn’t the way
This is isn’t the way I remember,
The way to the Buckeye tree.
The bird is perched on a Palm tree.
I am tired, weary, and out of breath.
“A Palm tree! Why a Palm tree?
You are a Cardinal!
What did you fly away for anyway?
Come back to the Buckeye tree!
Be at home with me.”
But no.
The bird just began singing his song.
I am done trying to sing along.
It’s his song, not mine.