Spoken word; "Just for you" by Jada

Описание: Poem I wrote a few years ago titled "just for you", I recorded this (and the following videos) on my laptop...a poor choice for the video quality.

To fit in your palm;
Or the cradle of your arms;
I made myself just for you

If it is my job to love then why cant I see the apparent perfection that lies between every blemish

If it is my job to love it then why cant it ever be perfect?
Maybe there is vanity in this self-loathing

My hips are always bruised but not from touch, rather lackthere of’;
Feverishly decaying at a rapid growth rate
And though it never seems to stop it never really seems to start either.
You could say the same about my arms, my legs, my knees my waist;
But my poor hips, they never seem to start and boy dp they never seem to stop.

There is something so juvenile about feeling grown up
though the statements contradict themselves,
My story is far too long for my age and I so desperately wish I would let myself be young instead of basking in an age that is not yet meant to be mine.

By 19 my sticky fingers will be well into my retirement fund as if it is necessity.
My will is long written and my tombstone is engraved,
I so patiently await the ending before I cross the start line.

Feeling as beautiful as someone's aunt but wanting to feel needed like somebodies mother.

I feel a kind of catharsis when I claim im not really sure my love was made for you, my love.
But forced, I sit in this equally requited confusion so frustrated and lost in this blind emotion.

What motion is in this picture?
Where is my warmth?
How does one continue-
Will you ever not overanalyze the past, present and future?

View your independence again, forget the dependency and find love within yourself.

Please bring back what I don't know yet
And
Preserve this feeling I don't know how to use yet so that I can use it when I do.

I live my days to be praised for the things that are slowly killing me
But there is an indescribable comfort in the emptiness
The cold is beginning to just be cold again
And
I am led to believe my mouth is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

I must question the adoration for mentorship on topics I already comprehend.
To fall in love with guidance is to die and to die is to feel misguided

Dreading the future because I know it is a one-way ticket to the past

I am envious of other peoples dreams as I have not lived enough years to know my own.

I plea that the moon shaped pools in your eyes never dissipate,
Because when I look into your eyes
I yearn to see the reflection that I don't when I look into the mirror.

Obsessed with ones facial features, if that even is the word.
Trying to consume every last edge as if I will be tested on it
Unable to take it all in because of an overwhelming covet for another being that may not even remember my name tomorrow.