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Be gentle with us.
please.
or not
it's your call
but keep in mind that we as poets
we feel too strong
which is not to say that that is wrong
we don't ease into love, we quickly fall
we love like we're dying
we live like we're small
but in our minds.
in our minds we are flying

we feel everything at once
you wouldn't think it by looking
looking at our normal fronts
a disguise, a charade
but prey don't believe a masquerade
a poet can be but anyone
existing silently
a poet can be but everyone
existing violently
we all make up stories
we're all acting to a degree
so things aren't so different
no not so different you and me

we notice the quirks
we notice the nothings
if you meet a poet then you should believe
you should know that we
we love what we see
and appreciate all forms of beauty
for to us imperfect is lovely
perfect doesn't exist
we have those markings on our wrist
of all the awful places we've been to we kissed
we've kissed the devil when we went
to hell and back again

so now that you have been informed
that a poets heart is easily scorned
knowing we feel deeply
knowing we feel more
more than we really should I've warned
we don't just love a person when we fall
we love their whole world
we love it all
and when we're hurt it is hard to trust
and thus
please.
Be gentle with us.
It hits you like a wave in the ocean

All at once
A burning fire

Driving your passion
Your passion driving it

It comes in many forms

Inspiration
Pressure
Purpose

If we could just hold onto that moment
One second
One minute
One hour
…longer

We could accomplish all things
Be anything
Change everything
Some of you are homeless
Some of you are limbless
Some are battling PTSD
But all of you are fighting battles
of that we just can't see

Thank you, Veterans

Thank you for giving up your normalcy
So, all of us can live in peace & harmony
Jitters
Worries
Panic

Short breath

Its all a dream
No. no REM here
Only reality
Up all night

Guilt

Questions
When did it get done?
Was it done right?
Will I ever be good enough?

In my head
Always.
ANXIETY.
Bombarded with lights, flashes.
Always in my face.
Eyelids pulled back.

Urges to make purchases.

Collecting my words.
Preying on what’s heard.
Leeching on my mental state.
Can’t escape this fate.

Click. Click. Click.

An item I never needed.
A gift I never wanted.

Colossal debt.
Heart palpitations.
Blood money.
Take yourself. Your beautiful Self.
That premolded Self of you.
The You that everyone wanted you to be. And you are.
You are that perfect idea, on the outside.

On the inside, a prisoner pounding on stone walls.
****** knuckles and soot in your eyes.
For years that same person has pounded on those same walls.
Begging to get out.

Begging to take the place of that stranger, on the outside.
The prisoner sits in the ashes. Alone in the dark.
Until one day you hear the faintest chirp.
You ignore it.

Years pass by and you hear it chirping again.
Once more, the prisoner ignores.
It is hopeless.

For the final time, you hear the chirping.
This time it is different. It is much louder.
The chirping becomes almost deafening.

Finally the prisoner looks up.
What you see, you never could’ve imagined.
It was the brightest light.

So bright, it burned your eyes to gaze upon it.
Instinct told you to look away but staring felt like your only option.
The longer you looked, the less it burned.

Even through the soot in your eyes, everything became clearer.
You realized something that day.

That maybe this wasn’t a prison, at all.
It was just the bottom of a well.
You merely had to look up.

Freedom was that simple.

So, you climbed those stone walls.
As you got nearer to the top, your climb became easier.
Until you found yourself climbing the rungs of a ladder.
Finally, you reach the top.

No ****** knuckles.
No soot in your eyes.

You search for the impostor on the outside.
But they’re already gone.
It’s only you now.

As free as that chirping bird you once heard, in your prison.

— The End —