Old habits stick
Like I'm covered in glue
It makes me sick
I can't get them off
No matter what I do

They stain my hands
Stick to my skin
They're outside of me
And within

I try to peel
To scrub and change
But healing and growth
Still feels strange

A bit tired
Casting for inspiration
Soul in there
Soulful
Sad
Separate
From everyone
Trying hard to say something
Acceptable

I am not talented
And I refuse to believe that
I am
I realize this might be a shock, but
Talented,
Is a lie
I am not good enough
In 30 years, I will tell my children that
I have my priorities straight because
Perfect
Is more important than
Trying
I tell you this:
Once upon a time
I tried my best
But this will not be true in my era
Perfect is right
Experts tell me
Perfect is better than trying
I do not conclude that
Trying is more important
In the future,
I will be better than no one
No longer can it be said that
I have talent
It will be evident that
I will never be correct
It is foolish to presume that
I am talented
And all of this will come true unless we reverse it

One petal left—
But the rose doesn’t cry.
On petal left—
Yet the rose still try’s.
One petal left—
But color still radiates.
Hope is what powers,
The rose,  
No matter the fate.

One breath,
At a time.
One memory,
At a time.
One word,
At a time.
That all I need—
To keep going.
I just need to try,
For one at a time.
Till I can love myself,
Not leaving myself behind.

The sun bleeds through
The vein-filled leaves.
The wind picks up—
A soft-loving breeze.

The wind knows
And brushes my hair away,

So I can gaze
At the soft
Flowers in the deep,
Crevassed valley

On this bright summer day.