Poetry is a storm asking peace to dance with her.

Your eyes see me in ways the mirror never could.

A pain understood is a scar.

We walked out, we counted on the rain to wash the pain away. We came in, the pain washed the rain away.

I will always love you, but I am not God. I will sometimes hurt you, because I am not God.

If only I could touch what’s broken in me, and tell it: “I’m sorry”.

And on the days I couldn't breathe, I learned to paint air.