Drawing Value

Far too often the piles cascade too high

I can't see the top of who I am

even though I chose each object,

each emotion,

and each action.

I can't understand the tip of the iceberg though

I've been living in the ice for almost 14 years.

I was 14 years too late to realize that my life is 

mine.

Breaking down is built into my schedule.

I have spreadsheets that filled my mind so much

my friends looked pained with pity.

My anger flared in defense each time

but were they right?

It took me 14 years to realize that each one was for

the picture of myself that I photoshopped so much

it could be considered AI.

I wanted to become perfect so that others felt the love

I so desperately wanted to have for this world.

But in trying to force the love in lies through

effortless lips,

It became true not in the way I intended.

I love too deeply and show a shallow edge to myself

to books

objects

and ideas.

I live for many reasons that correlates to

my love for literature especially.

 As each pawn we become in the world

against the kings and queens of elements,

I still try to defend my fellow pawns because

my scars can be the barrier between

a pain they should never experience and one

I have grown accustomed to.

I put it to use.

I became useful

and still a gap exists,

but I drew in the gaps with charcoal and

pencils.

The smile wasn't drawn this time.