And when you find yourself tongue tied
You’ll listen to the larks and the Chickadees
And you’ll remember why you do this in the first place.
You do it for youself.
Grounded in morbidity.
Writing your eulogies
For places you’ve never been
And people who never loved you back.
You are equal parts tragedy and comedy.
The pain of a father’s manipulation
Weighed equally to the love you have.
Crying out bird calls in the backyard.
Watering the pumpkins.
Scooping up a centipede and carefully placing it on a vine.
You love to make others laugh.
The sarcastic court jester.
The defender of those she could’ve been.
The witty, cocky, looking for a fun time, girl.
Every period of shameless self-love followed by a period of self-hate.
But you’ll bounce back.
With every new beginning you bounce back.
And let yourself be vulnerable again.
With every broken heart and every audition gone wrong
You’ll write an ode and revel in the one thing you can rely on.
You’ll cry but find joy in the tears.
You’ll love and find tragedy in the kisses.
You’ll hurt and find beauty in the pain.
You’ll find curses in the blessings and blessings in the curses.
You morbid, lovely, tragic, harmonic, triumphant, poet.