If you had asked me
Five years ago
What it takes to be a genius,

I would not have answered
The way I do now.

Cynical and secular,
Sad and Sulky,
Silent and perplexed,
This ever-growing faith
That we’re all doomed
In the end.

Completely confident
Only in the principle
That life ends
In blackness.

And nothing more.
No, nothing better.

It seems human souls are thirsty
For anguish, for despair
And they will not give up
Until they find it somewhere.
Because darkness is the truth,
After all.

But tell me,
Why can’t I be happy
With the way I am?

And why can’t I feel
Like the stars really do shine
For us and only us,
Keeping a gleaming eye
On our world
To protect it;
Not because it’s broken
But because it is growing,
And the pain can only help it
If it knows how to reflect it
Back into the atmosphere;
And absorbing into it’s core
Only the parts that make it stronger
Than it ever was before.

Hope
Is more lost and beaten down
Than the words
Used to destroy it.

Hope
Is a pathetic, dying attempt
By a rare few
Who dare to live better.

There was a time
In my life
Where I could eat and breathe
Hope.

But I convinced myself —
Pleaded with myself —
That the only way
To establish myself
Was to notice the world’s scars
And not cover them with bandaids
But scrape deeper,
And deeper
Until blood poured from its surface
And pain
Consumed itself.

So I did.

I let my head feel heavy
And I let myself hurt,
Not on the outside,
But on the inside,
And it came out when I wrote.

It still does,
But lately
I’ve been feeling pretty good.

I’ve been hoping
To get hopeful,
And I’m ready to let it in.

But it’s hard to be a candle
When everyone else
Claws at me and tells me
That humankind is broken,
And I cannot afford repairs.

When is the last time
You’ve stepped out in public
To see people who look happy
And grateful to be there?

Have you heard anyone
Screaming “Praise the Lord!”
Except after winning
A football game?

Can you remember a novel
That didn’t cradle your heart,
Rip it out of you
And stomp all over it?

Have you been ridiculed
For your feeble attempts
To make the smile on your face
Something genuine and honest?

Have you been searching
For shiny spirits,
In a world made up
Of dull paper and lead?

I have, too.
And here is the truth.

Terrible, agonizing pain,
And wonderful, liberating joy
Are both pulled
From deep inside yourself.

You
And only you,
Decide which one
To grab.