This is for you:

-the girl who is so ashamed because of her acne,
-the girl who cries in front of her mirror because she doesn’t
look like Picasso’s muse,
-the girl who forgot how to smile because of her problems,
-the girl who cries her eyes out every night because of him,
-the girl who is so terrified to attach because of her past relationship,
-the girl who is different from the others,
-the girl who wants to save every soul she meets, except hers,
-the girl whose heart, blood and soul runs wild,

-you are so much more than the sprinkles from your skin.
-you're not Picasso’s muse, but you definitely are God’s muse.
-don’t waste your life being so stressed, just enjoy the journey.
-you need to be strong.Cry your heart out, but stop,your tears are too worthy , make them rare, for the real ones.
-try to love yourself first, then someone else.
-your future is not defined by your past.
-you need to save yourself first.
-run with them, darling, and never look back.

This is for you, girls.
You, no matter what, are good enough.
You are lovable.
You are strong.
You are independent.
You are different.
You are rare.
You are you, and that is your power, learn how to use it.

I'm suffocating.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle my throat closing,
no don't call 911,
there's no reason to.

I'm choking.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle the mucus that blocks my throat,
I can spit it up just fine,
so just keep on walking.

I'm coughing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle myself doubled over in pain,
with my chest hurting as I try to sit up straight,
so just ignore me hacking up a lung.

I'm breathing.
But I don't need your help,
I can handle hyperventilation without my inhaler,
I don't have to breathe properly to live,
so thanks for just leaving me on the floor.

I'm dying.
But I don't need your help,
it's not like I have no energy to get my inhaler,
you can totally just run out of the room panicking,
it's not like i'm scared too or anything.

I'm angry.
And for some reason,
you can't figure out why.
So leave me alone.
I'm fine now.
I can handle myself.
I don't need your help.

What a perfect place for a treehouse
In the limbs of that old tree
I'd spend all my time just dreaming
Of what a wonderful time it would be
To be running away from the pirates
Who were after me!

While looking for a place to hide
I'd look up and see
That treehouse snuggled high above
The perfect place for me.

The only way up
Not the way you would think
Was a little old Elf
Sitting there on a shelf
Saying, "I'll give you a boost for a drink"

So I pulled out my cup
And went looking
For water was surely nearby

He said, "Water's not my favorite drink,
                   I'll have a cup of Rye"

I had no Rye to my name
Thinking quickly on my feet
"Let the pirates give him a drink of Rye"

When they go up,
I'll say "Goodbye"

What a perfect place for a treehouse,

If I were only 10 (again}.

When I was small,
I picked out an Aquaman action figure
Out of a bin at the secondhand store
He was missing a leg
Most of the paint worn off at his joints
But he was brand new to me
And what my mother could afford
I made up a story
About how his enemies had hurt him
How he'd defeated them
Became stronger
Was world reknowned for his powers
I loved him and this love fixed his brokenness
One perspective change made all the difference
I am like this.
Not broken, just reimagined.