Let me help you, for I am strong.
Let me help you, that I may offer support.
Please, madam,
Take my hand.
And …
Never mind the blood dripping from its severed nub.

I say, walk away.
Walk.
Away. Can you hear me speak it?
Walk away from that not-happening-love

What’s to speak
When words are of bronze and aluminum
Each syllable metal grain living bullet-wise bitter in your mouth...

Strip away the dross of the “why nots” and “what ifs”
To leave yourself with a hard, small, sad
Stone-heart
Smooth with knowing

What’s to know
When the facts are decided before-hand,
Written out in neat print-writing
On six-inch cardboard squares

That this love- such as it is- does not belong.
Is naught but itself, is no more. Is yours alone.
To take this fact, tear it to bits
And grind it beneath your heel

What’s to do
When the other people are pixels, dots, lines
Two dimensional child-drawn angels without wings

Do this with pride so that all who see you
Want to clap in joy at your courage,
Want to mourn, and to feel the glory with you:

Walk away,
Walk away tall,
Walk away tall and calm and super-duper cool

Young child with your doughnut smile,
Your cockiness and native guile,
Here's some stuff with an 'S' to look out for
A smallish list to even the score,
In what you'll know is an unfair life:

Sufficient knowledge of Machiavellian strife,
Scissored words to cut the crap,
String and sticks to lay your traps,
Shell to listen to when adults blare,
Stone to polish whilst they glare,
Sleekly concealed hiding places,
Several artless piteous faces,
Sack to carry your thievings well,
Starched hankie for its awesome smell,
Salve to nurse your nascent pride,
Style enough to say "I lied",
Sharp pin in shoe-toe to kick any creeps,
Soles of rubber for super-huge leaps,
Some allies of similarly toughened mien,
Strong butter-toffees to keep the allies keen,
Stories of your devious plans to pass the time...

Since i'm tired now of trying to rhyme
This is where i leave you, small human being
Find the **** things and smash the adult fiends,
And when you're done, just wait for me
Next time we'll look at things with a 'T'.

Oh, Cat-wanderer at carnival time,
Dusk is as dark as
Your heart is bright.

Oh sir, with your considerable depth and serious amount of cool
I think i might just like you like you like a swimming pool

The feeling is chlorine, cavorting, blue-green bizarre,
Slipping, and falling, and lengths gone too far

And at the end of the day, when I lay down and dream,
All the people and places have a swimming-pool gleam.