
I disagree that one must earn the right to be loved.
You believe in a white-collar job and finding your own passions,
But what about those who have lost their voice?
People who have lost their spark?
Those that have forgotten how to love?
Those that can barely write a poem,
Yet they still find joy in their own soul?
To them, I say this: even if you can't write a poem,
Even if you've been betrayed and forgotten, used and thrown aside.
Even if you've grown cynical about yourself and the world