Lakes form in the
bags beneath your
eyes, soaking every
red X on every exam you ever
failed, every tear filled
pillow after every red
faced, door slamming
scream, every person who took a
flight far from the explosion imploding your
brain, leaving you in the
corner of a room smaller than your
closet with blinding
walls and ear shattering
“You can’t do anything right.”

Unmade beds at
3AM and these bags transform
into suitcases where you find every
picture of every friend who lost your
number in a pile of other
nicer,
prettier,
with more to offer than
you.

Your eyes remain on the
ground next to your
confidence and
you. You’re waiting for
someone to pick it up,
place it in your battle scarred
hands, and tell you it’s okay to raise your head to the
clouds. It’s okay to let it stay there for as long as it
takes to for a smile to find a
home in your lips.

This world isn’t a shiny castle, horse
drawn carriage. You were not
created to be a footnote in
someone else’s autobiography.
I will help you unlock the
steel box you keep
yourself hidden inside, so you can
start to soak in the
starlight. I’ll give you a red
blanket to tie around your
neck like you did when
you were five. Let that
S on your chest
shine through your
clothes and

fly.

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