The writer inside me is one you’ve created,
Harnessed with time, patience, and laughs.
Many of these words have been thoroughly debated.
Seen in my memories like videos and photographs.
I now understand that fatigue is not fat-a-jew,
Neither is deign dine nor is dais dee-us.
You can see that because of you, I grew,
Through all the things we frequently discuss.
The curiosity inside me is one you’ve encouraged,
Albeit slightly begrudgingly in some instances.
We’ve discussed the world as it’s flourished
And society as a unique synthesis.
I may have asked the outlandish questions,
But you humor me with valid hypotheses.
This may not develop the world in progression,
But we love to digest these facets with unease.
The acceptance inside me is one you’ve fostered,
Sculpted to adapt to a dynamic world of individuals.
I can see cultures and society not as a monster,
But pieces to larger, special visual.
I can see people for their distinctive attributes,
And not despise them for how they differ from me.
I can see the origin of their heritage, their roots,
And not hate them simply because they came across the sea.
The confidence inside me is one you’ve strengthened
Through guiding and supporting me in everything I do.
You’ve taught me rules, but never threatened.
You’ve taught me honestly, which allowed me to trust you.
You’ve taught me self-love with every word of praise.
You’ve taught me sarcasm, which is now never in lack.
You’ve taught me ambition, to set the world ablaze.
You’ve taught me strength, so who I am doesn’t crack.
The love inside me is one you’ve embellished,
By being and creating a family I can rely on.
I know the world can only be jealous
Of my mom, as bright as the dawn.