As wine gets better with age,
I hope time makes me better.
Growing older happens to all,
However growing up is not the easiest task.
Birthdays don't mark growing up,they mark growing older.
I hope to take age as a stepping stone,to more integrity and maturity.

I was once shy
I always asked myself why?
"Be different" I whispered to my nine year old self
I recalled that at the time I hated myself

And so I bloomed into this wildflower
I became spontaneous, daring, unique, strange, intelligent yet naive
And so the problems started

You see I wanted to be different
But I didn't know the cost
I didn't know the cost until I became seventeen
You might think it was just the phase of a teen

But NO
As I layed in the ground watching everything pass by I died on the inside
I became consumed to the point of hide

"Be different" "Be accepted" "Be skinny" whispered the nine year old
I tried and I'm sorry for wanting that mold
"I'm sorry" I whisper to my seventeen year old self because the agony was not worth it

I thought drugs and alcohol was lit
I thought boys and women were ****
I thought comments were superficial
I thought social media made me official

Dear nine year old,
bullying made you weary
Tears made you strong
Thoughts killed you
And comments surrounded you but that is gone
That is past
Who are we to judge others?
GOD?
Who are we to comment?
GOD?
Who are we to feel?
Us.

Bad or good
     Useful or harmful
         Beautiful or not
           Venomous or lovely
             Real gentlemen
                 don't hide their feelings

I found you when my knees hit the bare tile floors.
You only truly find God with sins professed.
Hands stretched high, falling to the ground in remorse,
Choking on breath, heart crawling out of my chest,
digest my sins and pray on those paper planes.
Send love with my tears and hope for better days
when my heart doesn’t beat poison through my veins.
Tell me your name to love you, let me count the ways
You were baby teeth; things I thought I needed
on nights spent carving caverns from compliments.
You pray with hands clasped and sins to be pleaded,
until God takes the doubt from your confidence.
As your flesh meets the barrel of the pistol;
Hands high, knees to floor, surrender all, take none.

I’ll tell you that we’re all just stars in the sky. Just because there are nights you don’t shine through the city lights doesn’t mean you’re not there, remember, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost the purpose to create beautiful things, so don’t burn out just yet. When there are nights you can’t seem to push through the negativity that clouds you, remember; you are more than your current disposition.

ONE: I’ll tell you that you’re made of stardust and have galaxies for eyes, giving me the faith to muster up my doubt to look at the sky and expect for more than just this.

TWO: To the boy who told me I could do anything, except the one thing I love to; your words held the knife and cut through me. I am not a statue cut in stone any longer. I can grow, change and evolve into someone greater than the smile you chiseled into me. I am not a tree planted by your disposition and watered by your opinions.

THREE: I’ll tell you that people are not hospitals. They can’t enter your life and heal what isn’t broken. They are not hands with vacancy signs scratched into their veins. People aren’t  pills for a quick fix to ease the lonely. You will only end up more sick of the placebo lies that are stuffed down your throat in attempt to heal you.

FOUR: I will tell you that love is just a game of hide and seek. You will look in the wrong places and feel lost in the dark, but you don’t stop looking. You don’t stop until finally, they’re it. Why do we fear when the scariest thing we can imagine resides in our own mind? When we feel broken, our scars inked onto porcelain skin are simply faded encounters with fate. You’ll fall flat on your face, but at least then you will know it was real. You are a story, novel, art in the human condition, 600 words per minute, but you are not a puzzle waiting to be completed. You are an incomprehensible metaphor for tomorrow.

Maybe I don’t know much, and maybe I don’t know anything at all, but I do know this;

FIVE: When we feel helpless, hopeless, and on the brink of nothingness, that is when we know we’re still alive. It’s just another reminder that we’ve still got work to do.