​It's not where you come from
It's not where you've been
It's not your bad choices
Nor the guilt that flushes in

It's not the people staring
Nor the thoughts in your head
It's not the voices saying
That you're better off dead.

It's the people that's around you
The people that you know
It's the songs that's on repeat
And the poems you read alone

It's the sun rising in the morning
And it's the raindrops splashing to the ground
It's the love that which surrounds you
And the home that you have found.

i'm sorry things had to get so terrible for them to get any better. i'm sorry this is what "better" feels like. i'm sorry for letting you break so often without offering to piece you back together. i'm sorry for letting you believe what people thought about you mattered even the slightest bit. it doesn't. you are so much more than i ever let you believe. i'm sorry for letting you dwell on yesterday. tomorrow has always been more important. all those times you hid in the dark, i should've laid with you and let you see how vibrant you can be. i should have helped you better when you needed me. i'm sorry i wasn't always there when you needed me. i'm sorry for letting you fall for boys who were never going to be good to you. i should've looked out for you better. i could've done more. i'm sorry i let you love people who never loved you back. i'm sorry i let those people make you feel like you weren't good enough. you have always been more than enough. never forget that. i'm sorry for teaching you how to fly but always calling you back down before you could reach the moon. i was jealous of how well you could fit in with the stars. i wanted you for myself. i promise to be your voice when you can't find yours and to hold you up when your knees crumble beneath you. i promise to be your eyes when your vision is blurred and to tell you i love you when your ears can't filter out the hatred anymore. i will love you with every ounce of light left in me if it means letting your flame grow brighter. i'm sorry for the way it always seems to get awful before it gets bearable. please remember that every morning the sun is still roaring, the earth is still moving and the rivers are still flowing. flowers will bloom in spring, waterfalls will rush in the summer and the sun will keep rising as long as you are here to see it.

Maybe your hair is blue now
Blue like the song of a mocking jay,
Sweet and cold.
Talking to the wind,
Drenching under the faces of clouds,
Waving at serenity.
Towards the landscape
Your feet smiles to happiness,
The white of your scarf softens,
Soften you start moving inside my eyes.
But I keep it still,
Quiet like the fallen particles of sun
On each of your pores,
Who run miles after miles
Inside your skin
Along with the prairie's wings.
There I am a hidden seed,
Sleeping through the eternity,
To dream you near.

Oh mirror, the flattened cornea,
Whom do you belong to, dear?
-Who love me as themselves.

Oh my childhood Barbie,
Whom do you belong to, dear?
-Who put their breath in me.

Oh the young walking stick,
Whom do you belong to, sir?
-Dependence of helpless old.

it was winter when i wrote you ;
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice --

ice,
it beat on my door --
slivered on the mattress,
sheets of it --
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.

when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun --

inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.

i heard the tempest, both sea and sky --

faith,
they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock


in ice.