//Dear me- This isn't just a letter//

From the letter on my shelf,

There were quite a many, that I often written to myself.

Some words indeed,

Meant a lot to me.

Happy, was used frequently,

For, it was all that I wanted to be.

Try, was the next word that caught my eye, 

However difficult be the situation, I’ll face it all with a smile.

Love, that one emotion above everything,

In these letters, had lots of feelings with it, to bring.

As I glance through these old papers of thoughts,

My eyes look at the last one from the lot.

“Dear me”, it began.

“Happy was what you’ve always wanted to be, and intact, that smile, you wanted to keep.

To the world, you had all love to give, 

But for yourself, how often have you lived?

How frequently have you loved yourself,

Or even murmured those words, of some care?”

The letter, it ended, incomplete,

I guess, I didn’t love myself enough, to finish that piece.

With tears, I finally give a thought,

To the incomplete self-love, I’d got.

“You’ve cried for those you care for,

But never for the pain, hidden behind your hearts walls,

You might have a thousand people around,

At the end, you have yourself to be found.

That person you see in the mirror,

Should be the first one you admire .”

I wiped my tears, and smiled,

For, now I’ve realised,

Whatever be the times,

I had my love for myself, by my side.