Pushed out of the nest,
Birds live in free flight,
Death or life,
They cannot rest.

Somewhere,
A blue jay lives in adolescence,
Binded by love and refusing to leave,
His mother grows tired,
In weary fashion she hates her peeve,
“Learn to live my love,”
She kicks him free.

Somewhere,
A pink robbin lives in adolescence,
Blinded by love and choosing to stay,
Her mother grows tired,
“Please you must learn to go away,”
Returning to others,
“You cannot make me leave,”
Her mother in a feather flurry,
Kicks her free,
She must deal with this pain,
This is her reprieve.

Feathers fall,
Lonely nights await,
Blue Jay has grown tall,
Walking away he has learned to live,
“Pink Robbin, why do you call?”
Blinded, ******, but okay,
Pink Robbin stays in place,
Horrid mess,
She has chosen to fade away.

Pushed out of the nest,
Birds learn to live,
Choosing not to rest,
Choose death or life.

People love in one of two ways.

They either love selfishly -
Where they love the parts of you that are easy to love, the light.
They use their love like a weapon to try and force you to change, to conform, to fit in the box that they deem appropriate.

Or... They love unconditionally -
Where they love all of you including the parts of you that are hard to love, the dark.
Their love is given freely even when it isn't returned and never do they ask you to conform.
They allow you to be free, to be you.

The second, sadly, is a dying concept. People have forgotten that we all have pasts, all hold darkness.
That darkness, those burdens are what mold us and create the foundation of who we are and will become.
It is a rare person who can see another, with their darkness behind them, spread out like majestic wings and accept and embrace all of who they are.

For years I have allowed myself to be molded, forced and made to fit into boxes too small to hold me for fear of loosing those I loved.
It is only now, recently, that I have learned that my wings, my strength and my foundation are always the things that others wish to change about me.

No more.
No more will I allow my greatest strengths to be deemed unworthy by those who are afraid to love unconditionally.
No longer will I allow those who love selfishly to dictate what parts of me are lovable.

I have always loved with all of me, accepted all of others (even the parts that hurt me) because I thought that by doing so, it would be returned.
I will continue to love in this way, whole heartedly and unconditionally.
I will just no longer stay when I am pressured to conform to another's standard of acceptable.

I have learned to walk away from those I love so I may be true to myself. One day, maybe I will find another who has learned to love and accept all that someone has to offer.
If that day comes, I'll be ready to receive what I have always given and grant another what they have always craved.
Untill then, I'll love truly for all of those who cannot, in hopes that they will see what it means to love unconditionally...

In quiet fields, I stand where winds have blown,
My petals scattered, seeds once brightly sown.
The world has tried to tear away my core,
Still, I root to live this life I abhor.

The sky is heavy, clouds a pressing weight,
I’ve stood in shadows, weathered storms of fate.
And though I bend, my roots remain below,
To find the strength that others seldom show.

Each gust has taken more than I could keep,
My dreams, like seeds, were carried while I sleep.
But still, I bloom, though weary in the light,
For even fragile blooms can hold their fight.

The years have left me cracks I cannot mend,
But in each scar, a lesson to defend.
I’ve learned to face the wind, though I may fall,
And fly again, even without control.

In every fall, I’ve found a quiet grace,
The kind that only time can now embrace.
For every step that took away my past,
I’ve grown in ways I never thought would last.

A dandelion, weathered by the years,
I wear my scars, but let go of my fears.
Though bent, I stand, a fragile bloom in air,
A flower rooted deep in quiet care.

On days like these, I pause and look within,
To measure all the distance I have been.
The seasons turn, and I have felt their mark,
Yet here I bloom, a flower in the dark.

In cracks I find the strength to greet the day—
The roots I’ve grown, no wind can pull away.
No light ahead, though I can clearly see,
That even in the dark, I’ll still be me.

I have struggled so long, but I have thrived,
Now that acceptance keeps my will alive.
And though the world may see me worn and torn,
I'm THEJHONDELION who walked through thorns.

Someone stained the sweater
So you soak it into the water
it's clean and wearable
that's how you feel

She wears you recklessly
and you remain calm
keep her warm
suffer the same stains
over and over

Acceptance
I'm a ball of yarn
no, that's not right
I'm a sweater to her
scarf for the mother
socks for the baby
hat for the lover
blanket for the stranger

Acceptance
A ball of yarn is useless
yet the strands come together
Grandma knits and knits and knits
and you find use
in comforting another

Could I be accepted
even when I am not a comfort
Always moving and improving
yet remaining the same to the ones I love
death comes for us all
and before it does
I want to live
To not be a means to everyone's end
To be selfish sometimes
And to feel loved
Don't you want to live
and still be accepted
(I do)
~M

When expectance change to acceptance, life becomes calm and soothing.

My beauty  
I think I’ll always be at least a little repulsed by seeing my own reflection.  
It betrays me,  
Stares at me with my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile.  
Haunts me, embarrasses me, manipulates me,  
Forces me to face all those faces that came before mine,  
All the faces reminding me that I can’t change where I came from.  

My eyes are supposed to be beautiful,  
Big and brown and caring,  
Loving, intoxicating, inexorable.  
Though,  
I’ve never found any beauty in my father’s eyes,  
I find his relentless selfishness,  
His sadness,  
His stubbornness,  
His refusal to help himself escape the pain I know he’s always embedded deep into his ivory skin,  
It reflects in mine.  
I stare at a mirror,  
He’s the one who stares back,  
Reminding me that brown is not just a color that has the potential to be beautiful,  
But also the color of the selfish isolation I am doomed to endure.  

I don’t see beauty in my mother’s smile,  
I hear all the hateful words that passed her lips,  
Every biphobic or humiliating comment to keep me down, each reason why I will never be like the other children she knows.  
All the words screamed at me until I finally began to believe them,  
Encouraging me to make myself smaller,  
Make myself less me.  
Make myself hate every part of myself.  
I picture her in front of me,  
Her grip so tight on my wrists that I can feel the bruises forming, her nails digging in.  
Her face distorted by my held-back tears as she hisses at me,  
“Nasty.”  
“I wish I never had you.”  
“Unlovable.”  
“Unfixable.”  
I imagine her soft smile,  
The same smile she wore every time she
wore every time she swore she was proud of me,  
Twisted into the spitting image of hate and disappointment she won’t let me forget.  

I wish people wouldn’t search so hard for my beauty.  
I wish they wouldn’t take my face in,  
My features all stolen from  
Generations before,  
As a representation of my being.  
The big, brown eyes,  
The charming, uneven smile,  
Thick hair and tiny little freckles you can only see up close,  
Femininity, romance, perfectly imperfect to keep you interested,  
Just unique enough to make you think you’d never find a replacement.  
It’s all so pretty, so perfect, so pointless.  
It may captivate you,  
But it doesn’t tell the story of what lies beneath,  
All you’d have to endure to keep it in your life.  

It’s not easy to see beyond my face,  
Or my attitude,  
Or my fast comments,  
All designed to intrigue.  
It’s not easy to stare into my eyes and watch them fill with tears,  
Watch the way my face falls,  
Farther and farther from your perception of my beauty.  
It’s not easy to hold hands when they fidget,  
So violently you’d think there was lightning shooting around my entire body.  
So easy to admire,  
But not easy to love.  

I ache for the love of which I have been denied for so many years.  
I want to be beautiful for all that I’ve endured,  
All that I carry with me,  
The pain I’ve felt,  
The abuse I’ve suffered,  
The stories I’ve collected,  
All the broken pieces of old versions of me that I’ve slaughtered on my own accord.  
I want you to think that I am beautiful even though I can never accept it.  
I want you to still think that I’m beautiful when my skin is ripped to shreds.  
Torn by the blade in my own hands,  
When my eyes are sad and empty,  
When my smile eludes you.  
I want you to still think that I can be beautiful.  

I am so tired of bleeding my soul for people who just want to look at me,  
So sick of letting people in who see everything beneath the surface of my face as ugly.  
I am so much more than my body,  
So much more beautiful than my face,  
But it will never matter.  
People will always praise my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile,  
The traits soldered to me that brand into my mind,  
Infect my soul with all of their hatred, anger, and disgust.  
People may always call me beautiful, but just once, I want someone to find my beauty to be more than skin deep.

I've been running consistently to getting somewhere
And in this moment right here my soul couldn't care
About all the dreams or the scars or wishes
I've been planning to go through, for my body leaves
The sense of reality under the gravity
Of my own pressures and judgements, projections
Of being imperfect, these self-rejections
Disguised as ambitions
Couldn't fool any soul that they are soul missions

I've been running and bleeding and I'm tired of feeling
That I am constantly in need of some divine healing
Healing is not becoming someone you're not
But accepting yourself as you are, the whole lot
The shadows, the wounds and the darkness of past
The ways that you cling still to what did not last
The ways that you think endlessly into void
And the way that you let your thoughts steal the joy

Of being right here, nothing else to avoid,
Just being yourself, it's not to control
The ways you exist or defining your role
Into this life in such perfect ammounts
That things old as faith and as grace simply counts
To nothing

Cause I'll tell you, you're something
That could never be perfect, for you can't be a concept
But when you look at the rain or the sea, anything
That nature has brought into this here existence
When has the mind ever had the persistance
Or the ***** to say something as perverted,
As : "that is not perfect, it's not in control,
Of it's own fate or soul, there is too much flow
It's allowing itself to go with, it must be tormented "

For existence was always meant to be accepted
As a jellyfish accepted the tide or a leaf in the wind accepting a ride
Life never happened by action, it just was allowed
To come into being by the one who is proud
To exist as he is, silent or loud
Or however it felt called up on the mount
Of his body or shape, incarnation or being
Regardless of pain, imperfection or grieving

Things such as healing or letting go of control
Were never intended to torment the soul
Into changing what happened or what it desires
What it feels that should be or the band and the choires
It hears, but instead, it was meant to accept
What exists as it is in the now, it's direct
And it's grounding and kind and just this moment
Can bring an end to the winter that stood
In your door and your house when you said that life should
Be different somehow in the way that it goes
But you cannot decide nor the waves nor the flows
Of the ocean, the wind or the boat you are rowing
But just the direction you decide it's worth going


So if you ever have wished for a different ending,
Know that it's here, and it starts with accepting
That life is not made for the ways of expecting
But for trust and for faith in this neverending
Journey of life and this always changing
Existence you are, it's about surrendering

To who you are and the present you're living
And about the love you're allowing and giving
Yourself when you start being here and receiving
All that's been waiting for you to start feeling
Worthy of living.

_M.