the world is so
beautiful and i am so small
i only wish that i spent less time crying under the covers,
and allowed myself to discover this earlier
that there are mountains wider than minds,
and lakes that are ice blue like robins' eggs,
and robins' eggs that little birds are going to hatch
from,
and that every little pebble is different and nothing is exactly
the same
there are sunsets and sunrises, and new days and so many
futures;
and i no longer want to die, but the longing to see all of these
things
in the little time we all have left hurts almost just as
much