born into this:
not into the lights.
not into the fame.
not into the hopefulness.
born into this:
the sewers.
the dark.
the hopelessness.
you found us there one night.
you:
calm and still,
almost understanding,
carrying purity
in your bones.
you weren't just sprinkled with it,
you were drenched with it.
you could tell by the ever changing color of your cheeks
that you:
the purest of them all,
made the water clear
just by your very presence.
were you born into this?
your voice like a hymn,
eyes like the sky
heart like the sea.
born into the sewers?
the dark?
the hopelessness?
you taught us
there was light in the dark
with your gentle hands,
kind mouth,
open heart.
But your purity made us feel
like ****** up
***** angels.
if you
also born into this
could be so so pure
why couldn't we be?
you pulled yourself out of the sewer
and into the lights
the fame
the hopefulness
while we just sat here to rot.
Thinking
We had to be as pure as you
to ever succeed
but
My voice is not a hymn
Eyes not the sky
Heart not the sea
But
My voice is a thunderstorm
my eyes a hurricane
my heart a tornado
i do not carry purity in my bones
not sprinkled with it.
not drenched in it.
i carry a fire.
my hands could ignite the sky
could light all the darkness
Still
when you offered to help
i agreed
although
next to you
I remained looking like
a ****** up ***** angel
it didn't matter
getting out of what i was born into
was not easy
i scraped my knees
got lost
hurt
but you:
pure as ever
kept holding my hand
even when I slipped down onto the pavement
and had to start over
even when I got into the fame
The lights
the hopefulness
i still wasn't pure.
wasnt soft
not always kind
but I used the fire in my bones
things sparked
My voice thundered
and people finally heard
People could tell
I had a fire in my bones
by the way I spoke
the way I looked
the way I felt
they looked at me
the way we used to look at you
never had they seen someone with such spitfire
born into this:
the dark
the sewers
the hopelessness
but
i didn't stay
didnt rot.
pushed myself out of it.
sometimes you guide me past the sewer
where we all lied before
and I remember all of my friends
who are still there
still rotting
still sad
because they did not want
to appear ugly
next to you