you're beautiful, you know.
that's the thing you have to hold on to, when it
gets tough.
you are special. when they tell you it's not true, just smile.
they will call you names and point fingers, mouthing
strange/creep/weirdo.
you will toss your head and laugh because
they cannot break you.
life pours out of your fingers, your hands fluttering across the page,
white-winged moths circling closer to the light.
you draw the world as you see it - light and dark, good and bad
and all the gray area in between.
you want to travel. there is more than just this place and
these people. somewhere out there is a spot,
just for you,