Dear Naive Me,
I know where you are now
Seems like it will never end.
I know the struggle of how
You tried to be their friend
*Of the lengths you went
To be the helpful one
And how your time was spent
Receiving praise from none
*I know of your pain
Unleashed in anger here
And of your uncertainty
And hiding it from fear
*Of all you tried to change
To be better for the one you love
How the blame was always yours
And yet you soared above
*We are fragile and sensitive
Crafted out of colorful glass
We were broken—
And still struggle tirelessly to move past.
*We continue to be dropped—to fall
Shatter ourselves over and over
Each break creating intricate details
As small as a chip on your shoulder
*We are beautiful and flawed
Textured, scarred, glued back together
A mural of layered shades and complicated shapes.
But, let’s get to why I’m writing this letter:
*Something inevitably must wither
Every time something new begins
And whenever it crumbles down
We are scattered to the wind
*Making ourselves “whole” once again
We gather ourselves back up, every time
Haphazardly pieced in dizzying design
A myriad of damage so sublime
*Twisting, churning, shifting
Changing every second
Evolving—a kaleidoscope of acquired lacquer light
The vibrancy we beckon
*And now, you react less
And observe more:
Pick each hue apart to the core,
Learning it’s safe to explore
*To ask questions, to not simply accept
The way things should be,
Or what people expect
About how you should speak and act
*I have never lived in white and black
But bursting in prismatic facets
As glass exteriors shatter
Releasing rainbow, billowing jets
*Each one, unique, separate
Ever moving,
Splitting off and falling behind,
But never really losing
*Because they return,
Stabbing and sudden
An individual mosaic
Blissfully they are summoned
*We carry on through each variation
And finally, we’re coming out on top
And, if we just keep pushing
We’ll have everything we want
*All the colors this life can provide
One of many, indiscriminate
And what we’ve found inside:
The secret to being infinite
Sincerely,
Future You
About the Creator
V. N. Roesbon
I have dreamt of being a writer since a young age. In my teenage years I also came to love photography. I typically take pictures of clouds and write poems, but so far I am really enjoying creating for challenges here on Vocal.
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