Have you ever seen someone so crumbled,
That it seems they are dying?
Someone so hurt,
And so full of distaste for themselves that they tried to end?
I have.
I have been one,
And I have met a million.
And there is ONE thing I have realized about all of these people.
Not one of them is weak.
Not a single one.
Most of these shattered souls have held together through a million beatings,
Physical or verbal.
All of these beings who fold in upon themselves,
Trying to hide,
Are the most beautiful humans to ever exist.
Each of these souls with an ache for an end,
Are talented, and skilled in ways that most would not think.
Every bruised heart has loved a trillion,
But are now afraid to have someone cruel reach in,
And rip their love out.
Every single one of these people are perfect,
Worthy beings.
Every single soul like this,
Deserves to wail,
And cry.
Each one has every right to scream,
And howl,
Until their lungs are weak.
All of them deserve the most perfect love,
And they each deserve respect.
To most,
Each of these souls are weak.
But they are not.
They are trees whose limbs have been scorched,
But are still breathing,
And are still dreaming,
Even if they believe that they do not deserve a single good thing.
They have leaves sprouting at their bases,
Flowers blooming from their roots.
They may seem powerless to some,
Even themselves,
But they are wise,
Powerful souls,
With a thousand rings in their tree trunks,
Who will NEVER be uprooted.
