read this poem again tomorrow

when was the last time

that they complimented you, my dear?

they are amazed by your rhymes

but they overlook the things that you fear.

did you even read my work?

“of course i did!” they exclaim

but they only saw your mark

not connecting the name with your pain

you are the artist,

whom people often misuse

but you spend life making things art-touched,

when will it be your turn to be the muse?

they say it’s a privilege to love,

but what exactly is the point of it

if the love flies over and above

the very person who’s responsible for it?

you are the only one who has power over your life. become the muse.

you must shape-shift, my girl

and avoid a broken heart.

receive the love that the universe hurls,

make yourself the art!