Your mother did not keep you in her womb for 9 months, to see you lose yourself over trying to find a home in his thoughts.

Your father did not put you on his shoulder, only to see you worship the land on which he walks, when he so gently and patiently taught you how to fly  

Your brother did not look up at you expectantly from his sleepy eyes, to see the light fade from yours.

Your grandfather did not tell you about his dreams, if he ever for a moment thought, you could not have them fulfilled.

The steps you take,
The breaths you breathe,
Oh, you were beautiful
Long before he told you that is what he thinks.

The words you write,
The pain that kills,
Will only take you towards,
The person you were meant to be

Your 5 year old self
Did not just want to live to breathe,
Let her teach you
How not to let your brilliance get
Tainted by the silhouettes of grief