Joyful Ruins

People have often

used my goodness

and dismissed my soul

They have always known

how to channel

my helpfulness

or land safely in my kindness

but the things that make up me

are not welcomed

downright odd

and deserve ridicule

I find myself

otherwise

invisible

used

or ridiculed

Yet still I am me

and always will be

That might just be

the naturalist

the poet

the empath’s

curse

For the world to make you a utility

or an inconvenience

but to completely miss

the galaxy of stars inside you

It is exactly why

the birds are your friends

the words are your outlet

and feelings

like waves

move you

They are your world

and ask nothing of you

but witness your beauty

as you do theirs