Have you ever built up a sandcastle on a beach,
Mixed in your ideas, dreams and fantasies into that structure,
Kneaded into it all the hard work you could muster as a six year old,
Just to have it get washed away with the angry waves that crash upon the shore?

And you walk away feeling defeated,
Tasting bitterness and disappointment in your mouth for the first time.

If I could, I'd go back in time and tell the six year old me not to hold onto that disappointment but to let it go,
Let it wash away with the waves that brought the disappointment.
Because life, life knocks you down just when you figure out how to stand up on your own two feet.
It throws questions and heartache and disappointment at you,
But you, you've got to learn from those waves,
You've gotta throw out the pain in your life so you can make room for all the great stuff that makes you glad to be alive.

I'd tell the six year old me how to walk with her palms open and not balled up in fists because,
As my basketball coach told me,
The best offense is a good defense.

While life is figuring out how to throw you the next curve ball,
You can walk with your palms open,
With your heart light,
Knowing that no matter what,
You learnt from the waves,
And you'll always come out the other side stronger, wiser,
And more resilient.

I’m silent but my presence is well spoken
a heart golden yet badly broken
a poetic sense but metaphorically misunderstood
trying to do right but still punished for doing good
& for all this time, I’ve been missing the main key
to the mystery of understanding the mystery of Me
Poetic Venom

I was a canvas and you had paints.
I told you to paint me bright but you left me as I was,
saying that the most beautiful things were raw.
And I never understood you meant me so I allowed other people to leave marks.
And they did.
Now I'm an array of disillusioned colors and I can't ever remember feeling so *****.
I have layers of other people's burdens and I can't find myself beneath all this suffering.
I think I need you now.
I need you to find me another canvas so I can see that although I'm stained,
I am not as I seem.
That beauty can be found within the chaos
& colors are simply colors;
they do not paint stories, people do.
I am not simply a canvas but an array of things.
I can be a sunrise, or a sunset, or whatever I wish.

There is a place out there, somewhere, waiting for me.
Somedays, I sit and it all comes to me.
The fight within. The astonishingly thin line between dark and light.
And the struggle not to stray.

Most days, I know where I stand.
Then, there are other days; days where the veil is hidden
and everything is exposed. I see myself as I really am.
I see the dark. I see the light.
But I don't see a future.

That's when I remember you,
Everything you promised me.
And I remember this place.
Here, the struggle is not important, because you are here.
I am here.

And that's all I need to keep fighting.