To carry out your small battles
But I never felt or saw them
And that's a lot like you.
I don't capitalize your name anymore
We both know you don't need that
You're just older, greater, wiser
And you sound so warm and human
So easy to upset, so hard to please.
And although I've never seen you without one
I bet you don't have a beard
Because you're young at heart.
And you're kind and gentle and patient
Yet you cry and suffer in silence
I sometimes think that's why you're so quiet
Because you're too hurt to answer.
It's so hard to be human, so I don't blame you
But at least I have people to share with
The things you gave us to carry, not as a burden
But as a way of bonding.
And I often think why you can't say no
But your love is silent and you must know
We only want to make you proud.
So I'm sorry. I'm trying.
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This is something I wrote in one of those moments before going to bed when I get the chance to stare at my ceiling with my lights still on, in complete silence, so deep I can't even stand it. And I often think about loneliness and what it truly means and about myself and my place in the world, so this is what came out. Silence is powerful and beautiful and terrifying at the same time because it gives me the chance to connect with all that I love and all that I find close to my heart, which is not religion or God Himself, but simply the greater force that governs this Universe: that's what God is to me. Just something abstract. Someone abstract. Always there to listen to me, to argue with me, to laugh with me. A much, much older friend.