I am not as interesting as I seem:
Once I believed that I was funny, kind and that people found me interesting
But you have set the record straight.
I can never forget what you taught me.
What I had mistaken for leopard print was merely poke-a-dots.
My child like ways, simply childishness.
Compassion as weakness.
In the end, even the sound of my voice made me think I had done something wrong.
So now that you are gone, why do I still hear your voice?
Why do I fear what others will see in me?
What if they see what you saw?
Will they feel the same? What if you were right?
I don’t believe the things that I once did.
I get tired of fighting your voice in my head.
Because some part of me believes you;
Believes that I am less than ordinary.
A crow among nightingales.
Amanda C Nov 2012
I don’t know how to be kind to you.
There are so many times that you have missed the mark,
So many times that you have failed to accomplish your goals.
How can you expect me to love someone who doesn’t love themselves?
I will not help you, you have to solve this yourself and you have five minuets to do so.
You know that today will be no different from yesterday, so why are you still trying?
I try, because I know it CAN be different.
That all people make mistakes, fall down and try again.
I choose to believe that I do not have to live this way,
That it is my responsibility to find a way out of the dark even if it takes a long time.
But in the mean time, I need to be kind to myself and remember that everyone struggles.
Everyone doubts and questions themselves.
And I can choose to love me even when it feels like no one else does.