Not everyone can see their purpose,
leading them to believe that they’re worthless,
which is most certainly untrue,
because there is a very special reason
that you are you.
The freckles you don’t like are there for a reason.
They are not God committing an act of treason.
The one hair that won’t stay down,
isn’t just there to make you frown.
All the little things you hate about you
aren’t there to make your days blue.
You just gotta keep that smile on your face,
and know that you are someone’s saving grace.
You have a reason to be on this Earth
and no words, not even this poem
can describe your worth.

This time will pass us by
but know my unconscious mind
is still making love to you

for my Valentine if I had one.

can it be that the truest form of self
is the last vine still clinging to its battered tree
in the aftermath of the fatal dance
of absolutes and inconstancy?

and the wind that brutally bludgeons the earth
is the full force of life's endless uncertainty
that erodes the façade of innocent intent
and exposes the raw spirit of Honesty's being?

and a hurricane gains its momentum from pain
that has stirred up the waters of Redemption's ocean
and the ocean's heat meets Determination's cool
and their explosive dance serves to avenge Love's devotion?

then a cloud in the sky is not certainly sad
and a drop of rain doesn't imply grey emotion;
if the fury of Nature is not so reckless at all,
let us dance in the torrent and destroy common notion