Writing to breath

Enough silence

I'm tired of being afraid to show my thoughts, that doesn't make me less of a person, but whole.
You see, the highest being had an intention with my writing, and it was never meant to be kept buried.
I won't hide part of me, you either accept me or you don't.
I won't beg for your care, I never liked eating breadcrumbs.
What you love, you nurture, and to a fiery passion just add more wood.
I was never an organized person and it cost me a lot.
But in my messiness, I've learned it's ok not to be ok.
Sometimes when you're more broken, it's when you're more useful.
But only if you've decided to a be tool. Because that makes you more.
You'll make someone else whole. You'll reconstruct others while putting your pieces together.
If you saw yourself the way true love sees you, you'd known your worth, you'd known you're loved.
And that in your imperfections and the broken mirror of the reflection of who you used to be yours, you are enough. With or without, your essence was never meant to be dimmed.
"You're light" they told me. Your words are not meant to be kept quiet. There has been enough silence.