How do you write something happy
that's also good?
My efforts always seem to fall short
when I attempt to write
about how the sun feels
on my skin,
because that skin contains scars
and pieces that never see the light;
I can't stand their sight.
It's always so juvenile
when I write a poem
about the warmth created in my chest
at the feeling of true happiness
and devoted love
because thoughts of sell-loathing,
fears of unreciproated feelings,
and anxieties of undesired responses
obliterate and inspiration
of a seemingly simple emotion.
I can't always describe
how my thoughts and feelings
are interpreted when I'm confident
in my abilities
because it never lasts long enough.
The voice in my head compares me,
degrades me, and oppresses me
to a point where I don't feel
like me anymore;
I can't remember anything
that makes me unique.
So I suppose
a better question might be,
"How do I like myself?"
How do I bear my body?
How do I heal my heart?
How do I appreciate my accomplishments?
Because I can't seem to figure it out.