No Longer The Poet

When the world goes dark and you feel all alone,
remember that even in your silent tears,
while you're within the comfort of your home,
the night sky reflects the battles you've fought for years.
Those tears rolling down your face,
sparkling trails, like stars left in their place,
wondering if it was all for naught,
questioning the cost of every war you’ve fought.
With eyes of brown, ringed with green and a golden fire,
burning bright despite all you’ve been told—
wandering through a town wrapped in shadow,
knowing now, the truth you hold.
Told you'd never amount to anything,
that you deserved every heartbreak, every sting,
afraid the world would strip you bare,
and leave you wondering what else you could spare.
Yet, you gaze up at the night sky,
not in search of approval or home—
but to see your reflection shining high,
no longer the poet, but the poem.
You guard the peace you've earned,
the sanctuary built through battles and scars,
and if solitude is the price paid in turn,
then the calm outweighs the endless war.
With eyes of green and brown,
a golden fire that keeps the dark at bay,
you’ve rewritten your story,
retelling your pain, revealing your hope.
You stand your ground,
defend your peace,
and if that makes you the villain,
then let them say it.
For you wouldn't want it any other way.
You’ve stopped the chase,
If they seek you, they’ll find the way,
but you are done showing the path—
they must meet you where you stand.
That golden glow and radiant smile,
those eyes that shine so bright.
You choose to love despite the pain,
but in your peace, you shall remain.
Distance makes the heart grow fonder,
You're still the poet for some,
and in time, you'll be the poem
for the heart that’s always known.