You are admired for happiness and life and appearance of youthful adventure.

You are -
beautiful.


This is so obvious.

Yet,
They do not see how troubled you are.

How hard you are trying to please their expectations.

You sit, cold desk containing-
colder feelings.
Moving is something you must do, not out of wanting but out of-
routine.
Cracks forming not from age itself but what age has done to you.
More time to-
experience.
More time to-
learn.
more time to-
feel.

Water spills over the tub that is your willpower.
Those will not see the way it is-
drowning your home,
smudging your smile in old photos,
I tainting your memories with the iron taste of regret.
Most will not see it till it spills from the front door, because walking in without permission is-
frowned upon.

Mirrors show that of a broken person.
Others can not see it because it is a -
mirror.
You must be the one there, you are the only one who sees it.
Your reflection and your projection seem recognized the same by those around you.

While the cement takes your-
insides.
Freezes your-
passion.
Pigeon holds your-
Pride.
And tells you to be content with it 'because hey the neighbors believe it.

'But I am not your neighbor.
I have no obligation to you.
I want to see your soul dancing in the light in your-
eyes.

You are trapped behind this-
glass.
Yet I have seen you anyway.

Speak to me in tongues of-
truth.

Let me be your companion because I-
would be so happy to.

A statue although beautiful is not you.
You are the -
art.
Not because of looks or reputation.
I will not sit and applaud you.
I will not wrap you in a red bow and leave you in a burning museum-
even if you would still be standing afterwards.

I want to be with you.
Hold your hand to show that you are-
not alone.

You are art, because you are yourself.
You struggle and you fight and you are still so-
Perfect.

I am your friend, because I will tear down your walls if it'll keep all that you are-
From disappearing.