when i look at my past,
i grip the ground tightly
not wanting to fall back
into that deep,
                          dark,
                                    canyon
that is teeming with nightmares
more horrible than my words can describe.

sometimes i get a taste of it.
i get a taste of how it once felt
to be in that canyon
and having no hope of rescue.
that scares me.

i don't want to go back.
i don't want to go back.
i don't want to go back
to that canyon teeming with nightmares.

i write poetry to let go of my emotions and move on,
but sometimes putting my emotions
into words
is more painful than keeping them in.

"The tallest poplar I'll grow to be,"
said the young tree.

"Standing above the rest,
I'll be crowned the best.
Fortified and grown,
the forest will be mine to rule alone."

Ripped from the roots,
and cut down by a man in boots,
the dreams quickly faded.
"There's not much to make of me now"
Thought the tree,
whose complexion quickly changed
from wide-eyed to jaded.

Hauled onto a truck  
Off he went.
To the lumberyard,
the young tree was sent.

Chopped to pieces,
stripped of his bark.
Our young poplar was afraid his life,
would never leave a mark.

"Some wooden crates they'll make of me"
"The peaks of the other trees I'll never see"

"I'm useless, I'm broken"
"In the forest my name will never be spoken"

The story doesn't end though,
it's only just begun.
For the life of this tree,
is one that's not yet done.

The lumber was chopped, cut, and carried.
To a town of a man named Jack,
who was poor but newly married.

"I've got little money, but I make good shoes"
"I've got to take care of my wife, I've nothing left to lose"

"I'll open a store, and become a cobbler"
"And with the money I make, I'll buy my family something proper."

So Jack took his life savings.
And off he went, to open a store,
To make enough money to pay the rent.

Our poplar was still together,
chopped into many pieces.
Next to some hardware supplies,
and a vendor selling fleeces.

"I'll take that lumber, it'll do the job."
"Just take my money, and I'll be along"

Years passed by as Jack labored hard.
A few kids came along, a house, and a fenced in yard.

One day a special man came to town.
Not the type of man that you see every day,
for this man wore a royal crown.

"Wooden clogs I need for my feet"
"To keep them dry as I walk along the damp street"

A chance to make shoes for a king,
this was enough to make Jack sing.

He looked through his supplies,
they weren't enough.
To build shoes fit for a king,
would be quite tough.

"I have just the wood, "
he thought to himself.
"From when I first built my shop,
there is some left on the top shelf.

So he took the remaining scraps,
and he made new shoes.
Shoes for royalty,
clogs fit for a man more special than me.

And now our poplar finally got his chance.
To join in the royal dance.
And on the king's feet he stays.
Helping him rule the land for the rest of his days.

So, if you find yourself cut down before you grow.
Just remember, and make sure you know.
Your chance will come, sooner or later.
To become a part of something greater.

I'm a bit different,
that's what they always say.
I go about everything I do,
in my own sort of way.

I'm a bit unique.
Where others are straight I'm oblique.
When some choose red I choose blue.
That doesn't make me less of a person than you!

If who you are,
doesn't line up with even a single star,
then shine brighter then others do,
knowing that there's nobody else like you.

Walking about,
there's no need to pout.
Just smile and wave,
don't force yourself to be how they expect you to behave.

You are you,
and that's more than enough.
There's no need for changes,
that makes for too much fluff.

So if you're different,
just like me,
then think of it as a gift,
of which nobody else could receive,
and make your own special mark in history.

these words you say,
they absorb into my skin.
they absorb into me,
into my heart,
they absorb,
and i can’t get them out.

i wish i could shed my skin like a snake.
i wish i could start fresh, without your words
holding me back.

you are holding me back.
you are the one refusing
to talk about the elephant in the room
staring you down.

you think this is a phase?
it’s been a year since i’ve told you,
and you still won’t get me help
for the thing
i most desperately need help with.