you are teetering on the edge.
edge of brilliance,
insanity.
something so wonderful,
so terrible.
something that people devote
their whole lives to
putting into melodies
and words on paper
that make you want to weep.
you are numb on the outside,
but once the shell crumbles
you are a mass of fear and loathing,
stuck running endless circles in your mind.
but there is also hope.
hope, mixed with curiosity
that tinges your cheeks pink,
draws you out of bed
at the crack of dawn every morning
and keeps your heart beating
with the ferocity of someone determined to live.

the life you have hitherto Refined
whence love shall wax and wane
cannot know Hephaestus's grief
for you and he are not the same.

now Steel your restless heart,
and from it, Forge the demon's bane
lest your senseless grief, in Fires
of boldest Mettle, wrong you all the same.

she was a girl
and that's all that they knew
they didn't know that she cried every night
and when it was worse
she brought out her knife
she was alone and had nothing left
so she took that knife and pushed it right in her chest
but, to late and little did she know the boy in her class never wanted her to go