floating like a lily pad
past all of the drifting flowers
freely opening their leaves
to the sun as the wind blows them
why am i the one
the frogs land on
while they observe the view
i would give anything
to be something that
draws attention like that

and yet
i love being there
to support the frog
to keep him out of the water
while he takes in the view

expelling you from my mind
is like expelling air from my lungs

utterly impossible

you look at your reflection
and see a caterpillar
small in stature
incapable of traveling far
minute among the world
surrounding you

i look at you
and see a butterfly
stunning wings spread
taking up the space
you deserve

what you don’t realize
is that it doesn’t matter
if you are a caterpillar
or a butterfly
you are important
capturing hearts on
your journey
simply by being
you

 

-for gw

There is a brick on my chest
Every day a tall thin figure steps up to me
And places another brick on the last
Until it is exhausting for me
To even allow my chest to rise and fall
There’s too much pressure
I can’t remove it on my own
So instead I lie there
And let my perfectionism flatten me

must art
come from pain?

art
birthed from
the hope
the friendships
the celebration
that follow
the sorrow
the struggle
the guilt

must i always be in pain
to create?