Writing

They say the eyes

Are the windows to the soul

Stained glass

Of brown and green and blue

I look into her eyes

The eyes that match the color

From the moment you are born you enter into a world outside of all that is safe and cozy. Thrust upon lands. Joining a world of thought known only when you are at peace with your being.

Everybody fears death

Until they’re already dead

Left for the people who hunt the weak and support the strong

Am I wrong?

I’ve heard it all before

It is wrong for me 

to want to hold you close

and tell you that it'll all be okay,

even if I have no way of knowing

if it will be?

A kid simplified and broken down

Reduced to a microphone in their hand,

The notes that leave their lips.

This child is more than this.

“You are my daughter”

If anyone ever called me beautiful, I don't know what I'd do..

I'm used to being pretty but not that pretty.

Plain but not ugly.

I've never been called beautiful.

Beautiful is for people who match some standard.