For some people, it’s harder.
In a day where mental illness
And abuse rates seem ever-rising,
Life can be so dark
And confusing for some.
Do you know that one day
You could feel as great
As you do horrible now?
I’m sensitive,
It’s not a crime.
I vomit when dehydrated
And cry when sleep-deprived.
I need to work a little harder than others to feel good,
But that’s not a crime,
It’s not a deterrent.
I just work harder.
Because it’s worth it.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my toes
And can’t help but dance.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my belly
And I want to cook a feast to share.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my back
And I want to carry
the burdens of others.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my arms
And anyone can have a hug.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my hands
That I may write to reach the world,
And in my fingers
That I may point out the truth.
When I feel joy,
I feel it in my throat
And open up and sing.
I feel it in my face,
That I may light up a room.
And that’s worth the extra work,
It’s worth the extra pain,
That I may give hope to someone,
That I may be the light I sought.
I can’t ignore my joy
With sullied hopes
And withhold it from the world.
So desperately I need
The light I’m trying to shine,
So it’s worth the discomfort,
Pain of stretching
Where I just might not be enough,
Not yet.
