So maybe, we are glow sticks,
that need to break to glow.

So maybe, we are caterpillars
who digest themselves during metamorphosis,
to transform into a butterfly.

So maybe, we are stars
that need to collapse
in order to shine brightly.

So maybe, we need to breakdown,
to pick up the pieces and cast ourselves
as someone different.

So maybe, we need to shed
to become a better version.

So maybe, all this
crumbling
breaking
collapsing
was never a destruction
but a birth to something beautiful.

Embrace who you are
God's shining star.
He has a plan for you.
Honor yourself and be true
to the passions you possess.
Rise and claim your best version of success.

I want to end the story of that guy who is good…who is nice..who is helpful!
I wan to stop the scene of that person who is with that cool smile..
I wan to start a  new story!
…… No More of those facades!
A story of a new version…
A story of upgraded version…
And not…
A version of a perfect one!
I am not seeking perfectionism…
I’m seeking my true self…
I’m seeking Me!
10-10-2018

Calibrated versions of
my reflections, I shatter with
                          fists of  petulance.
                  


And
       still they never seem to shatter.

No where do I see a shard cutting upon




                                                 my wrists...


But bluntly do the words overwhelm
                every vocalization that is pummelled
                                  with every suppressed
                                                                ­        motif..

That never stood a chance of being more than just
                                                  a paper Mache
                                                                ­        eclipse.

Never truly covering anything just  falling apart
                before the form that
                                          was solid like imagination.

         Instead falling apart like yesterdays fake news.

                                         Never reading deeper
          
                                                     ­ than the surface,
only being more like a comedy page
                                                           that no one finds funny.

everyone thinks they know me
but they only the version of me that they have instilled in their mind
based off of jokes, or conversation or encounters
there are a hundreds of me out there walking around with all the people I've ever known
assumptions or truth or false information about who I am swirl around me in all the day to day life
all of these versions of me have me mixed in my own cocktail of loneliness
even with all the ME in the world
I still dont even know who I am

I think that
there's a version
of me that you love,
the version
that sleeps soundly at night,
that never doubts,
you love this perfect person,
an idea.
you love the version
of me, that doesn't exist,
and I don't
know how to tell you.