𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖓 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

A letter to my future self;
​​​​​​​I hope that you are well
and not sitting on a shelf.
I hope it’s pretty where you are
and you didn’t have to go too far.
Is the sun still shining,
or is it now declining?
Do we still love rain,
or has it become a pain?
Do you still care,
staying well aware?
If not, it’s okay!
Don’t fret, don’t decay.
I’m wishing you the best,
even if you still have small breasts.
I hope it’s pretty way over there.
I hope you now have healthcare.
And most importantly,
I hope that you are being loved.
It’s something that you’re worthy of.