First there was stillness steadily tension.
Eyes target me with an obsession.
An impact with might,
Profanity I incite.
This mirror reflects no perfection.
Feeling ugly today.
You see my flesh, you see my colour.
Painted by my father and mother.
I'm not your picture,
to be viewed for pleasure.
Beneath this skin there's a lot to uncover.
You were overzealous, had me concealed.
You tried to care, you thought you were my shield.
You created this storm-cloud,
Always angry and loud.
You were hazardous, too weak to be healed.
He stands there with a passive regard.
The silence mirrors that of a graveyard.
In front of a lit door,
enters the wintry air.
Extends his arm, welcomingly unbarred.
Black ties, collar shirts, a sea of black hair.
All operate the same, nothing is rare.
A heap of bleak faces,
Forming thoughts like a system software.
Sometimes I feel like I'm wearing a crown.
Othertimes I feel like I want to shutdown.
Give me what I need,
that special kind of seed.
The one where I get lost and can't be found.
Affection for you I can't undo,
Adhered to you like a tattoo.
I'm a substitute, I know.
Hard for me to let-go.
Painful to dry the ink you dipped into.
Psychiatrist Eric Berne states in his book *** in Human Loving that "Some say that one-sided love is better than none, but like half a loaf of bread, it is likely to grow hard and moldy sooner."