If you were a poet
and I the words,
would you wrap me in metaphors
to keep me warm?
Would you sprinkle my edges
with hope and love?
Would you warn me when judgment
comes far too strong?
Would you claim my existence
to those who abhor?
Would you flaunt me in cultures
all over the world?
Would you edit my errors
to hide my faults?
Would you give me syllables
of beautiful awe?

Would you twist me to fragments
of vengeful lust?
Would you scribble my ink
to darkened blood?
Would you tear through my home
and throw me away?
Would you burn my stanzas
to ash and ****?
Would you strip me naked
to bare my soul?
Would you forget the stories
you lost in my hold?
Would you laugh at the lines
between which you see?
Would you shadow the shivers
so eloquently?


Would you care for the letters
you etched into me?
Erase me?
Erase
Era
E

I long for arms that hold me,
To feel safe in a loving embrace.
I need a hand to hold mine,
A touch erasing worry without trace.
I dream of looking into eyes that know me,
Getting lost in depths beyond time and space.
I yearn to find a home in someone's heart,
Knowing without doubt that I've found my place.
This feeling wraps itself around me,
A daydream I ache to meet face to face.

"You are so deep in your thoughts you could die drowned by them."

I heard it in my youth, and I've heard it once again.
You banish it away, it always comes back again.
Pain, they say, will always make you stronger.
Then when it hurts, why can't I live any longer?

Pain is not supposed to strengthen your soul.
Only your mind it strengthens "and" it leaves a hole,
And that hole is filled with poison to dull the pain,
And that poison will weaken you, like acid rain.

Apparently what you don't know won't hurt you.
That's right. It only hurts everybody else... "true".
People who eventually hurt you another way.
You'll tell them, "Go away, come again another day."

"It doesn't **** you." "Only cats have nine lives."
Because I'm aware of the multiverse, these knives,
Called dysfunctional lovers, friendships, and family,
Have killed me a thousand times; I live candidly.

I live honestly, because the pain of seeding a lie,
Can grow a thorny bush, upon seeing it you cry,
When you're pricked by the destruction of all,
Your chaos, wondering why you don't get a call.

Pain is good for lessons, that's why it's all around,
It's not that you're getting strong, only wiser.
Pain brings you to your knees, makes you touch ground,
For the power, you are weaker, only wiser.