I think of a soul
consisting of many fragments,
all bursting to be released
and letting millions of thoughts
shine vibrantly.
They don't all have to make sense,
they don't all have to be original,
they just have to be true to me,
the me I chose to be,
the better one, the best one
out of all of them.
I have grown in many ways
and found amusement
in things I once shunned or thought against,
for instance, lying to myself
that everything is okay
but it's alright to do that because
if you make yourself believe
hard enough, then everything is,
and sometimes,
that's all that you really need,
having faith in a dreary, bustling,
forgetful world,
full of people who leave you behind
and people who pick you up
and take you to their
warm homes.
Bit by bit,
I've learned that change
isn't always a bad thing,
that some things are meant to happen
no matter how hard
you will them not to,
because it's your way of growing,
a forceful action wrenching open
clenched hands and
eyes squeezed shut, head afloat
ears trapping out all sounds,
then I realize
it was me all along
dragging myself down to lay on
a blanket of self-pity and isolation,
and change was
the only factor
with the ability to wrench open
closed doors.
Now I hear sounds that in turn
make me see, and seeing,
makes all the difference,
not just in black and white,
but also in vintage, sepia,
color.