The pictures I take
Are Polaroids meant for you.
You're so beautiful.

I'm disappointed
In the way you just gave up.
You're stronger than that.

I'm disappointed
In your ever selfish thoughts.
You cannot leave us.

I'm disappointed
In the way the birds don't sing.
Do you get it now?

I'm disappointed
That you didn't understand
How important you were.

My words don't always have a meaning behind them.
But the words I project are my heart's solemn anthem.

My poetry is imperfect; a mess of paint spilled on a canvas.
Through the colors though, I was able to see a purpose.
Putting my thoughts into a stanza keeps me sane.
Putting my thoughts onto paper is the rainbow after the rain.

My ideas range from puppies to the way I was left alone.
From the time my first dog died in my lap to the thought of college loans.
You see, I'm not the slightest bit okay;
However, my internal struggles will lose to my positivity day after day.

I can't tell you my origins in writing.
I can't tell you why it is I can't ever control my thinking.
My thought process is so god-awfully in disrepair,
And maybe all it needs is a breath of fresh air.

I miss my first dog Boy.
I hate the thought of student loans drowning me in debt and having to deploy.
I hate that I can't put an intermission in my concert of agony.
I miss the many days of my boyhood when I didn't have to worry.

I realized my flawed poetry in the many times I reread my past works.
However, don't you dare tell me they aren't of any worth.

Why is it we fight for only that which affects us?
You see, we are all in this grand scheme singing a grand chorus.
I can't begin to fathom the depths of the hatred in some souls.
To hate somebody with every fiber of your being without actually knowing them, as if you've walked a day in their soles.

1 in 12 trans humans are killed in a violent fashion.
1 in 8 if their skin color is of the colored version.
You don't know a single thing about the fight these strong beings undergo.
And you know even less about the thoughts they can't show.

It's embedded in us to root for the underdog in a contest.
But imagine an empty corner even though they're the best.
Imagine the feelings felt from former friends.
Imagine their bitter ends.
"It's just morally wrong..."
Can't you understand they've felt this way all along?

I think it's beautiful to embrace the inner workings of our mind.
It is not weakness to be one of a kind.
Never feel you are alone.
There are 7 billion people on this planet and we all have a light that's meant to be shown.
Our looks do not define us.
We are celestial beings formed from scattered stardust.
If you don't think that's beautiful, then I feel sorry for you.
I feel sorry that your perspective of beauty is so detrimentally blue.

Look at the world and its colors in full.
Never believe you are not beautiful.