I told you about all of the times I believed that you didn’t matter,
You said “baby your heart I could never shatter”
I heard that time and time again in the mouth of another
But time nursed me like if I was her child and she my mother.

I apologize for being so cruel to you
I apologize for all that I put you through.
Just look at how beautiful you done grew
Baby look at all the amazing things that you do.
I am blessed to be... you.

why should I believe in a god?
for faith?
for comfort?
for power?
why should I pray for comfort?
to be happy?
to be useful?
to stand my ground?
why am I trying to go against the riptide,
why am I trying to staunch the flow?
why should I have my opinion?
if that's all I have to show.

As I stand here in front of you,
I can barely remember the words that I need to say.
I can barely feel my legs.
My hands are freezing.
My hands are shaking.
I can’t feel a thing.
Yet here I am... standing.

Today I am wearing my battle suit—
miles and miles of white fields of fabric
and underneath is a sea of navy blue.
This is what I wear when I enter the battlefield.
This is what I wear when I enter a war.

Even though the curtains, the clouds, the tables,
The trees, the windows, and the chairs
are well aware
that I’m no longer Interested in fighting.
And even if I already lost my will to fight,
here I am standing.

I am weak.
I am sensitive.
I am fragile.
I am naïve.
I am flawed
I am easily overwhelmed.
I’m a slow learner
I’m a coward
An anxious person
A failure; nothing but a failure
And a disappointment to everyone,
I’ve always been a disappointment

I am just a student.
I am but a piece of sponge to absorb;
comply, learn, read, and write…
even if it doesn’t feel right,
and even if I am not alright,
look at me.
I am standing.

In this world where there seems to be no light;
where the only goal is to survive,
and even if I die inside,
I will choose to fight.
I will choose to be a soldier.
I will choose to be a fighter.
For I chose to be a student
and I chose to be here… standing.

I’ve stopped trying to please the people I cannot please
And in exchange I find myself looking to please me
I’ve stopped trying to find goals and achieve expensive pieces of paper
Cause I’m the end we are going to the same place proper.
Heaven or hell in dirt encrested ground
Embalmed or silent ash making microbial sounds

Shades pass me as I stand on the street,
Dark blurry unfamiliar faces,
They melt into a grand pile of dark matter,
The one I’m trying not to be a part of

And in the end, I stand alone,
On the outside only?... or on the inside as well?