Your third eye sees things which others cain’t. Your pen reveals all to this world.
Who sees hair moving “like a golden sun… like 50 golden daisies?”
Who makes oceans turn into marbles? And eyes turn into oceans?
You are a poet.
What you have cannot be taught. Nor can it be purchased. What you have is Imagination.
Run wild with it, K_lly. Never let anyone steal it. It is what makes you special.
Write on. Write on. Write until your insides become the outside.
Write until it shakes.
Write until it shines.