The Man Who Hid the Stars

I used to think anything you could ever tell me to do would be an improvement, that any insufficiency you’d catch, that I could make myself a better person by breaking my bones to fit into the mold that you cast.

But to be an influential person is the result of inhabiting an insulting prison of a body trapped behind the blinds the sun burns the eyes of those on the outside because they still get to see light but complain about the glorious sight I wish I could redeem all the scenes that I passed in the past to hold you up, to eventually erupt.

I told myself that no matter how many things I let you change around me I would always be intact, trained to interact with the tactics to tack down the right career, as that time runs out in creeps fear to hold its place where the confidence used to reside in my mind but where did you put the stars? Because I swear they used to be all we ever cared about, all we were was a placeholder for potential, waste of creativity, sinking below gravity because all I thought I needed was you with me.

Here I am, here I come, Here I’ll be never anything other than what my own mind could free. 

And you’re going to miss the ride if you keep locked inside, the knots in your mind will only reside where you let them so don’t just set them aside acknowledge their existence, your existence, the wind and the spirits and the coexisting ecosystems that somehow managed to break down all the hierarchies of your highness the king is heartless and I will never let myself sink beneath the ink of your handwritten laws, and never again will I permit condemnation of my “flaws” but you saw and had the nerve to tell me I was at a loss. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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