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They will tell you
How to solve for “x”.
They will tell you
That “Cu” means copper.
They will not tell you
Where to carry your pieces
When your seams seem to come undone.
They will not tell you
How to find peace
When those awful thoughts
Continue to ricochet off the walls
Of your skull.
They will tell you
To take shelter from the rain.
They will not tell you
How often it comes.
They will not tell you
That you may as well
Learn to dance in it.
They will tell you
To smile
In the face of sadness,
To push through the pain.
They will not tell you
How good it feels to cry.
They will tell you
To be strong.
Convince you to make
A fortress of yourself.
And their masks will
Make you believe you are alone.
They do not tell you
That sometimes
Being strong
Means tearing your fortress down
And admitting you are weak.
Rebecca Hawden
Rebecca Hawden
Do you remember
When you first learned to hate yourself?
Do you remember
The first time someone told you
A piece of you wasn’t enough,
So you broke it off?
Do you remember
How the jagged edges
Tore at your skin?
Do you remember
Where you put that piece down?
Do you remember
Before that, when
You knew for sure you had
A secret superpower, and you would discover
It one day in a room full of people
Who had never seen anything so spectacular
As your superpower, never seen anything
So spectacular
As you.
And I know you’ve probably realized
That you don’t have a superpower,
That no such instance as this will ever occur,
But darling, I have never seen anyone
So beautiful as you,
So resilient as you,
So spectacular
As you.
Expression
Harrison Denman (Digital Photograph)