I'm in the process of banishing demons from my body.

You can see these scars on my skin,
where evil once settled in,
but now, let my healing begin.

I banish cruel words from my kingdom,
I free myself from wrong touch,
I cover my walls in strong ivy,
I tear myself away from your clutch.

I run t'wards the ocean before me,
I swallow the sun in great gulps.

I'm making a sanctuary,
a home,
and a safe place,

A place that is just for myself.

It is true, though,
that I'd rather leave scars
on this body I possess
and leave tears in my heart
from the lovers I've met,
than to have never lived
or loved at all.

Life is a climb, a trip and a fall.

If the past is but an illusion
and the present is all that I am,
then it’s an illusion that has made me strong;
all those things that didn’t go as planned.

I drift now, happy to observe life
as it happens around me,
as it whisks me along with it,
I’m trying to stay grounded.

And I love now, passionately.
Not with a flame, but now I am the sun.
I have my own mind,
but I’m made up of everyone.

I am human enough to feel
slow crushing of heart,
but I am angel enough
to not fall apart.

What if I were in love with you?
What inside your world would it change?
Because for me, it gives such a different view.

For me, you make appearances when I sleep,
and I don’t know if it’s my imagination
or if it’s you trying to speak.

I know that you live just down the street-
you probably never even think about it,
but I always wonder whether we’ll meet.

So, what if I were in love with you?
It might explain why you’re always inside my mind.
Why you seem to be lost in there-
stuck in a maze, or you were leaving it but left something behind.

I know that right now you’re with someone;
with someone who’s kind.
You seem really happy.
I know that love like that can be hard to find.

So, what if I were in love with you?
There is nothing for me to do-
I’m embarrassed enough and I’m tormented, too.

This could’ve been me.

I could’ve been a consciousness
trapped inside a tree.

Instead, I have a body,
these bones, this blood, my flesh.

Why would I ask for more
when I could’ve had much less?