All your life
you're told to keep fighting,
to "stay strong"
and to "carry on."

Never once was I told that it was okay
to not be okay.

That I was allowed
to cry
and be upset.

Because my tears were a weakness,
and those words couldn't hurt me,
and my "imaginary” fears couldn't taunt me.

And so I would hold it in.

Try and hold back the tears.
Stare at the ceiling when you're upset.
Distract yourself.
Make fun of your sensitive being.
Turn your emotions into a joke.

But inside,
my throat is burning
and
my vision is blurred
and
my heart is pounding
and
I can't say a word.


Because if I say something,
just one sentence,
everyone will know.

And no one should know.

Because my tears are a weakness
and my emotions are a joke.

And it's true that they teach this.

No,
not in my school,
but in my home,
and on the T.V.,
and in the apps on my phone.

Society taught me at a young age
not to cry.
To "**** it up"
and behave.

Because no one cares
about my emotions
and my feelings
and my well being

until it's too late

and I'm already

too far
gone.

I am here,
alone,
where the river diverges in six different paths,
and where the mountain turns into a cliff,
and from there, the water flows
downward
creating a waterfall.

You will find me here,
alone,
where the sun struggles to rise,
and where the rooster rarely crows,
and the eagles endeavor to fly
upward
spreading their wings and drifting through the air.

Come find me here,
for I am alone,
and the wind is howling
but the wolves are louder.

The beasts only come out at night,
when I am alone.
But,
dear friend,
sometimes the moon doesn’t even shine bright enough to see.

She longed to be held,
to be explored.
She longed for someone who
would come into her life with a strong sense of curiosity.
Someone who would deeply examine her soul.
To learn about it,
and more importantly,
to understand it.