when you feel me,
you become an artist.
shattered thoughts rolling off your tongue
making you taste the blood that made you a warrior.
 
my presence is the rain
forcing you to stay inside where it feels like there are too many mirrors,
waiting for you to unveil who you are despite efforts.
 
you see, happiness is just a weed.
it grows and climbs whenever it may wish,
wherever it wants.
but I, have roots.
and purpose.
and the intention to make you see
that you cannot pull me from the depths of this earth.
I will grow and grow and make my presence unforgettable.
and the fruits of my soul will be beautiful,
don't be fooled by dips or curves or imperfection
because the milk of this earth flows in valleys.
 
I am that look of disappointment from your father,
I am scraping your insides and rattling your bones
until that person you never thought existed comes out,
I am fire rolling off tears,
I am the sound of scribbles in the dark,
I am the soundtrack to the life living beneath the sheets,
 
but I am also your best friend.
I will make sure that though it feels as if your bones are cracking,
your ribs stay intact to protect your heart.
I will show you
that though I seem unpleasant,
the best things in life don't come wrapped in pink bows,
because you certainly didn't.
you came onto this planet with blood and pain
and you challenged the machinery of our own bodies for your creation.
so stop labeling me
as evil or pure,
wrong or right,
wanted or unwanted,
and just feel.