Thank You, My Mess
My messy hair, my messy face, my mess, it's beautiful.We're all just one big mess,but we light the night so bright, filling it with heaven on earth, falling/flying/sailing with grace, just like stars, and yet, we are the universe, living and breathing even if only for just a moment.In wanting to free the caged bird after hearing her sing and realizing the world needs to hear too,I struggle to make these feelings look pretty on paper, so I'll just try to make them honest. It's hard that I want my life to be like a poem, a poem I read that was so mesmerizing thatI still feel its soft hand tugging at my heartstrings, and yet, I want to write a poem I read that sold millions of copies,that was... okay, I guess. Is "okay, I guess" want I really want?I've always felt that our deepest honesty is like outside after it rained.there was always something more to it than just the smell, like washing off your make-up in the shower leaving everything bare and raw, leaving true freckle-faced honesty. The surface of the world's naked body washed with rain, so fresh, so beautiful, and not afraid of the light. That's honesty. Naked.In.The.Rain For so long I wanted to be perfect.I thought beauty was synonymous with perfection, but"beautiful" and "perfect" aren't the same thing,no, that's "perfect" and "imaginary." It may hurt to say we will never be perfect, but we are also not imaginary because no one could have ever dreamed up something as beautiful as this. Until "imperfection" is synonymous with "beautiful,"remember perfection is imaginary and stay strong.
AleciaMaria
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