I’m writing this poem for a couple reasons, once and foremost, suicide. No, I’m not here to tell you that you’re beautiful or perfect the way you are. You’re only as perfect as you make yourself. If you think that you are the most ugly and disgusting thing in the world, then you’re going to be. If you think that you have so many imperfections that you can never be perfect, then you never will be. Once you focus on the bad things they are all you think about, and the bad things start to take over, and you feel like you can’t get away from said bad things. The truth is that it is almost impossible to get away from them. You may need help, you may not. But either way it *****. It takes you forever to get back to the person that you used to be. But maybe you don’t want to go back to that person. And I can tell you now, it’s up to you. But if you want to, you have to work for it to get back the things that made you who you were, the possessions, the people, and the feelings. Then let go, let go of all that’s holding you back.