Just for you.

I wrote this for you.

I wrote this for the kids who are covering up their bruises because of so-called "love."

I wrote this for the kids who sneak painkillers because they think numbness is better than pain and the kids covered in scars because they think pain is better than numbness.

I wrote this for the kids who count calories for control because the media's favorite words are "skinny" and "pretty."

I wrote this for you, the kid who wears a mask.

The kid whose heart is more broken than my ideas.

The kid who's tired of hiding behind a smile and a laugh because life is never perfect, no matter how much you pretend.

The kid who was castaway on an island and has been waving at passing ships only to be ignored.

We're the same, you and I. 

Tell me who you are, because I want to know.

Maybe I know your name, but that doesn't mean I know your story.

Let me inside your head, because thoughts become desires and desires become actions and actions become identities.

Give me your thoughts so that we can share our humanity.

They've told me that beauty is pain, but I'm not so sure it isn't the other way around.

So, show me your pain, because I'll tell you it's beauty.

Share your thoughts and fears, because we're all afraid of ending up that poet found in the hotel room with the gun still between their teeth.

Spill your emotions like blood, because the world wants to see the suffering it's caused and I want to see how you're doing resisting the darkness,

because pain is beauty and I have the scars on my soul to prove it.

--Alis