Even in the
midsts
of all my
despair,

saying your
name
feels like
a breath
of
fresh-air.

Write* me down
Paint me bright
Draw me beautiful
Watch me fight

Know my heart
Feel my soul
Think about me
Don't lose control

Don't let me fade
Don't let me die
Show me the way
Don't make me cry

Sing my chorus
Type my plays
Remember my words
Love me **always

I hate being told I am too nice because I feel like I am not sincere enough.
I hate being told I am quiet because on the inside, I'm screaming in agony.
I hate being told I am supportive because I feel I just bring everyone down.
I hate being told I am happy because I am holding back far too many tears.
I hate being told I am strong because I feel so weak.
I hate being told I am genuine because look at me... I try so hard but all I am is fake.

But worst of all, I hate being told I am loved because all I do is hate myself.

It's quite ironic, actually.

I know you're independent.
I can tell you're never scared.
You've plans of conquering the world.
I'd just like to be there for it.

When I stare into your eyes,
I see the best parts of me reflected.
I don't want to weigh you down.
I don't want to be your anchor.

Sail on into those unknown seas.
Brave those winds without fear.
I'll wonder if you ever think of me,
but I'll be too proud to shed any tears.

Then again,
when I stare into your eyes,
I swear,
I want nothing more than to kiss you
and run my hands through your hair.

I think of your poems when I'm in a crowd.
I memorize your lines and recite them out loud
into a sea of unsuspecting faces,
so that they fall in love with words, like I did yours;
strung together by the wisdom of your golden graces.

I want to bask in the glory of sharing your story,
and celebrate tonight in honor of you.
If I make your poetry a part of my life,
can I become a part of yours too?

I will tell you of their laughter and smiles.
How they wept, danced, rejoiced -
how the whole crowd went wild.

I want you to hear of their praises because I think you're divine.
I'll spend the rest of my days writing odes of thanks.
Forever indebted to you and your kind
for letting your words become mine.