Sometimes I think of how hard the floor must be to stand so many footsteps
I met tourists who forgot that we made homes here
They kept stomping, to claim space for themselves on our floor

We slid on your blood to a place where your body isn’t remembered
Bright red, like you held your breath
In dance, we are taught to avoid anticipation
Make each motion independent
A surprise to the audience
Nobody stared at your chest till your shirt was cut open

I never get reception in the tunnel
How long till someone picked you up?
I can picture the damage to your eardrums
The deafening screech of metal pulled along by electricity
The burns with fade but parts of you are still laid out on the tracks

The tourists tried to tell me that it was “probably just drugs”
I tried to tell them that we are a community
That we cannot reduce your life to a probably, or even a maybe,
Cannot pretend to know your body on a stretcher
It sounded a lot like crying to me

I told a counselor I wanted to send you flowers
Know which hospital they took you to
She said something silly about a kind heart, but they weren’t for you
Just wanted to know that you lived,
Didn’t think they’d let me send flowers to a morgue

I’ve been to a morgue: they let me see a body
Can’t remember his face
Can’t remember your’s, either
But I see your blood and ripped shirt and the head restraint
I see your hand reaching up and hear my own prayers that you’ll fall asleep soon

My friend will not remember the story, did not observe your body as a phantom
Cannot see your body on the tracks and forgot I told him it was there

I understand
Sometimes I forget the order of operations, too
I step over the line and somebody reminds me that the train arrives first
The doors open and a voice I don’t recognize gives me permission
I apologize for taking up space
And then suddenly, I’m someone else

I’m hoping that you woke up in the hospital bed and were someone else

You
Are the author of the book of your life,
You
Can erase words, delete chapters, write new endings.
You
Are writing your own computer software, and
You
Can create whatever programs you wish.
You
Are not restricted by what others say, and
You
Will never be happier than when you are being yourself.
You
Have more power than you think you do.
Own it.

You, yes you.
The one with the broken smile.
No, look up, your beautiful for who you are.
I don't care how you look, or where you came from,
You Are Beautiful.
Despite what others may say,
You Are Beautiful.
Even though you may feel blue,
You Are Beautiful.
Just listen to me through the pain.
You Are Beautiful.
Your gender, race, past, do not have any hold on you anymore because,
You Are Beautiful.
I know the voices may say something else but,
You Are Beautiful.
I know you may roll your eyes but truly I know,
You Are Beautiful.
You may look in the mirror and see a disgusting mess, but your not,
You Are Beautiful
You may feel like a mess, but look up,
You Are Beautiful.
Through the loss, through the pain, through the ups and downs,
You Are Beautiful.
You have done more than you think, don't hang your head,
You Are Beautiful.
Despite the mistakes you may have made, or the cuts on your wrist,
You Are Beautiful.
You may feel anger, sadness, pain, lost, hopeless, but you should feel like,
You Are Beautiful.
There's no disguising the fact, that,
You Are Beautiful.