M. Hank

Home is where you dream. Where your ideas come to life. A rhythm of thoughts making themselves known, untangled. 

To be chosen. 
 

That's all I wish for — to be someone's first choice. 

I watch from afar, lost in a sea of the bittersweet feeling 

As others are always chosen first, but never me, 

a dream, swirling in my tired mind, a sequence of letters makes a word.

my brain aches, an onslaught of countless words and numbers.

Get up, grasp the dream, make it out.

Get up, identify it!

Get up!

Get up!

To love someone

Is to hand them your heart,

Engraved with scars,

Dripping with roots

Drenched in buds

Thrumming with the pulse

We made a bet when we were sixteen.

Actually, you were fifteen.

I knew I’d lose. I did it so you would continue to speak to me. I liked seeing you care about something healthy.

Is that okay to say?

Sometimes I worry that I will get treated differently because of my differences.

I know that it probably won't happen in school with teachers

but you can't stop kids from doing anything 

not in middle school