My kind of love

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Am i capable of being loved?
I asked myself walking down the street.
Even if i am how would it really be?
Will it be magical or just plain routine?
Or may be a mysterious path no one has ever seen?
But many have walked down this road, so was it same for everybody?
Or was it any different for people like me?
But ain’t i loved already, i thought momentarily.
And i finally managed to make a list,
That was just a little bigger than my fist.
I wrote the names of everyone who cared for me, their words and actions became the key.
Yes i am loved,
By my father whose eyes still see,
His little girl, that i will always be.
Or by my mother who have a weak heart ,
but for me her strength is off the charts
And then my brother who will never leave my side,
like a shadow who always stood beside.
Also my friends, not hundreds or thousands,
but i can still recall one or two or even three,
for he might not always be free.
But when darkness spreads its wings, he is always there with a sword of light,
To make it surrender on its limbs.
And then that stranger i dont see often,
But whenever we have an eye contact my features soften.
And then the trees and air so cold,
that always encourages me to be bold.
Filling my lungs with an energy so strange,
It feeds the storm trapped inside my ribcage.
Love is also in that flower that withstood a stormy night,
Inspiring me to stand strong no matter the time.
I see love in everything that inspires me, encourages me to grow,
That fill the place in my heart that i thought was meant to be hollow.
Who is happy when i finally manage to achieve my goal,
Who pushes me to be my own person, With my own unique mind and soul.

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