You, Me, This City, This Country, We

A Question Like “do You Love Me?” Was An Itch Our Doctors Told Us Not To Scratch.

Everyone Knows Pain. We Are Not Meant To Carry It Forever. We Were Never Meant To Hold It So Closely, So Be Certain In The Belief That What Pain Belongs To Now Will Belong Soon To Then. That When Someone Asks You How Was Your Day, Realize That For Some Of Us - It's The Only Way We Know How To Say, Be Calm. Loosen Your Grip, Opening Each Palm, Slowly Now - Let Go.

I'm Not The Only Kid Who Grew Up This Way, Surrounded By People Who Used To Say That Rhyme About Sticks And Stones, As If Broken Bones Hurt More Than The Names We Got Called, And We Got Called Them All. So We Grew Up Believing No One Would Ever Fall In Love With Us, That We'd Be Lonely Forever, That We'd Never Meet Someone To Make Us Feel Like The Sun Was Something They Built For Us In Their Toolshed. So Broken Heartstrings Bled The Blues, And We Tried To Empty Ourselves So We'd Feel Nothing. Don't Tell Me That Hurts Less Than A Broken Bone...

I Have Loved This Life. I Smile Because I Have Tiny Dreams That Play Hopscotch At The Corners Of My Mouth. And Every Time I Breathe They Float, Every Time I Laugh, They Fly Kites.

My Heart Is A Protest That I Let Rally Against My Ribs.