Disheartened battlecry.

There is a cavalcade of people who love my words and all I want is for someone to love me.

This isn’t a poem. It’s a battle cry. I am my words. My words are who I am. I don’t write poetry about things. I write about what I feel and who I am. I shout it out, hoping for the right people to hear me. To know that I am here and I am real and I am waiting. Trying to figure things out but no where near perfection. Looking for connection and that moment when we are all revealed and nothing is hidden. I hate hiding. If something is coming for me, let it come.
Tell me the truth and never stop telling me. I need it all. Connection is the experiences we share. Not just the words we speak at each other. Conversations are give and take, yes and no, not just me shouting into the darkness.

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