This is stupid
and stereotypical,
I know.

Every poet asks themselves,
"Am I really a poet?"

Every poet reflects on
their surroundings, their life,
their thoughts.

Every poet has been sad
more than once
in a day.

We're all emotional,
we're all craving release,
an outlet to drain away
the sorrows,
to give our feelings
a physical form.

But in this poem,
I want you to know something:

it's okay to not be okay,
it's okay to feel like ****,
it's okay to give up.

It's okay to give yourself to pain,
let go of your surroundings and
shrink into yourself.
It's okay to want to die.

Do you know why?

Once you understand this
and acknowledge it,
you are free to change.

You are free to pursue whatever
happiness you desire,
to give yourself to bliss
rather than to guilt.

It's okay to want things,
it's okay to feel undeserving
when you do.

It shows you're not stuck
in one place,
intentionally or not.

You are human,
forever changing and
evolving.

You are still young and growing.
So make your mistakes while you
still feel the need.

My dear,
you are not perfect.
You will never be perfect,
and that's okay.

Because if you were perfect,
it wouldn't be you.