Glass Cup

They asked if I was half full or empty 
Yet turned on me before I could answer saying
You’re so full of yourself
I’m sorry I didn’t realize I was supposed to pour bullshit standards into myself like 
alcoholics need vodka and six packs to function
Full of hate
Full of insecurities
Full of flaws
Full of useless advice like how
To catch more flies with honey 
So they filled me with bees
That grew flowers in my lungs and yes they are pretty but I can’t breathe
Full of dead bees now because 
They forgot to mention how hard they sting only to die shortly after whenever I make a mistake 
Telling me to be more down to earth so they packed dirty clumps of assumptions of how I should be into my body
But they forgot when you bury poisonous air full of degrading material it would form into a diamond 
Full of potential
Full of inspiration
Full of words I never knew how to say
Full of filler words
but and because the
They’re the tendons of my fingers
The motivation behind each movement creating a phrase 
The live for the click clicks of my
And the freshly printed pages of my thoughts
Because with each finished poem I discover a part of me I forgot was there 
Full of hope
Full of prayers
Full of faith
Full of church bells and stained glass steeple memories that has pastor voices echoing off the walls forcing stories with hidden messages to help me
And for a while there was no creator in my life except for me making it difficult because I didn’t have the belief
I couldn’t see myself as an important piece in this life because what was a pebble to a mountain
But the mountain needed those pebbles to become it
They handed me a glass asking what I wanted to drink
I asked if there was a liquid to quench my thirst of permanent words that would mean something
Unfortunately they were all out of water from the fountain of youth
So I stayed empty until 
I was built like a brick wall 
Filled with picket fence dreams 
That they never allowed me to achieve
Thankfully I was also full of holes
When their sharpened gems of advice punctured me so many times
Spilling stories and complaints like miniature waterfalls of the cracks in a dam so I can be comfortable with myself in the end
Emptying out everything I was not
So I could be 
full of love
Full of creativity
Full of self security
Full of myself

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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