I have no poetry in me;
in me, there are valleys
full of dark memories,
there are rivers foaming against the rocks,
full of incomprehensible thoughts and anxieties.
In me, there are mountains,
made of challenges I am yet to overcome;
struggles with my sense of self-worth,
fear of the unknown,
a cruel view of my own self.
There are dark clouds made of past mistakes,
threatening and ominous,
obscuring a blue sky full of hope,
nevertheless,
the sun shines through,
and love endures.