Connor.

Connor,

You donated me fifty.
So, I'm giving you words.
It's not really fair. If you really think about it.
These are just lines on some paper.
They only mean something
because we made them mean something.
To literally every creature in the world
besides us
besides babies
and the illiterate
it means nothing.
Then again, it's the same with money.
But at least money could help
you build a nest.
That's what money should be for.
The reason I asked for money,
the reason I want donations
is to dance
for fifteen
long, excruciating hours
is for some kids.
Kids who ended up in the wrong place,
who have a little less luck than someone else,
a family bad off when they came into it,
a family that got bad as they got old,
a life with ups and downs
and
they
got
downs.

I haven't really stayed in contact
with anyone
after
high school.
You are one of the ones
whose kept
the FB messages coming.
And even if
you might deny this.
I feel like you care.
And even if you don't.
I feel like you do.
And that's all that matters in the grand scheme of things because even if you told me you didn't care, I would feel like you did enough to be able to deny your claim and keep believing in the warmth of your soul.
A soul warm enough to donate money.
To something intangible.
Something they can't really see.
For me.

Thank you.
See you FRIDAY. :D Maybe.
I don't really write poetry. This was hard and it turned out awful.
So.
But see you FRIDAY. ^-^ Maybe...

Oh. Connor is a friend from high school who donated to one of my causes here in college. I haven't seen him since high school so I'm very, very much indebted to his kindness. He's spreading super mega love and he makes me want to work harder. And dance for 15 hours... Haha.

Peace. Love. Dance. <3