You, are more than what you think.
You, are fantastical, unimaginable, spectacular,
supernatural you, are, beautiful.
But when you sit there on the concrete corner,
head in your hands, knees bent on the floor in a ball
because some loser womanizer left you because you
wouldn’t give it up, I can’t help but think, why?
Why does the world have such anger and hold
over this gloryious girl, why do the good ones fall,
why does his opinion matter, why, why why... do we hurt?
Why are we the broken ones?
Why are we the victims, left to crumble and take the fall,
when the popular ones, simply rise?
Why are we the ones society deems an outcast?
Why should I take on the pain of my whole race because you,
think you are superior than I?
Why are children being gunned down every night,
only to have their faces shown the next night, on the 10 o’clock news,
lined up next to each other like a row of suspects?
I don’t know what to say anymore.
What does it matter what I say,
if the little ones are still too cracked open to show their faces at school.
Why does it matter what I say if the little boy with two dads,
still questions his very existence.
Why should my words ring reverence,
if a seventh grade girl cuts herself just to feel something.
If the blood, flowing past her fingertips feels more forgiving, than food down her throat.
But my words matter.
Your words, matter.
Because words, are our first and last lines of defense.
Whether it be from anger or hatred, deceit, self loathing or fear.
Your words matter.
No matter what you say, your words, matter.