Would you hurt me?
If I asked you,
Would you tear my heart to shreds?

Would you love me?
Then leave me empty,
And broken in my bed?

Would you lie to me?
But prettily,
So the pain would turn to beauty in my head?

Would you hurt me?
If I loved you,
Tear up my heart, even if it was yours?

Would you love me?
And leave me broken,
On some lonely distant shore?

You lie to me,
But prettily,
What else could a poet ask for?

People see me,
And they see,
A losing battle,
Or so I think,

People see me,
And they see,
What once could've been a masterpiece,
Now shattering,
Or so I think,

People see me,
And they see,
A fool in wise man's clothing,
Or so I think,

I could be wrong.

I see with my eyes,
Critical eyes that cut through the lies that I tell myself daily,

I don't have 20/20 vision,
But my eyes slice through with precision,
All the walls I've built to hide behind,

I know my own mind,
Too well to begin to pass judgement,

Maybe you have different eyes,
That look at me and see clear skies,
And spring and new beginnings,

Or perhaps in me you see,
The vastness of a salty sea,
Or the violence of a hurricane,
In its spinning,

Yet in me,
There may only be,
A sort of everyday plainness,
And nothing particularly exciting,

I could be wrong.

I can only write what my eyes see.

One upon a time love burnt me,
Laying in the chest of a boy who hurt me,

Another time, love marred me,
Riding on the back of a boy who scarred me,

Another time, love as kind,
Hidden in the smile of a boy who would never be mine,

And then love was dreary,
Having left me broken, battered, and weary,

But a fifth time, love was quiet,
So soft I couldn't deny it,

My battered heart won out over my mind,
And in time I realized, I could see in his eyes,

Whatever I had felt before,
Love had only come around the fifth time.

And Jesus wept,
So why can't I?
My father told me,
'Hallie, it does you no good to cry.'
But I want to,

I want to let the tears spill from my eyes,
Feel the salt on my cheek as they dry,
Because living is a sad business sometimes,
And I feel better when I let it out,

I want to cry like I want to scream and shout,
Like I want to lay my heart out,
In the middle of a four lane highway,
Cause if I'm gonna go out I'm gonna go out my way,
Screaming, and crying,

I get so tired of trying,
But I haven't stopped yet,
And in a life where I find pleasure in crying,
I think that's the best I'm gonna get,

Jesus wept,
And so will I,
And so will you,
Sometimes,
It feels good to cry.

What is it like to be free?
I guess I'll never know,
There's always one thing or another,
Tying me to home,

I never will be free,
This much I know,
But if I'd want to be,
That I don't know.

The red dirt runs like blood through my veins,
The wind that fills my lungs rattles window panes,
I am the product of calloused hands and all that they have made,
I am Texas,

I reflect the barren beauty of my home,
I write down wisdom only grandmothers know,
I live on the sweat of my father's brow, a man who reaps what he sows,
I am Texas,

My voice is the hymn the church goers sing,
Whether or not they believe in what the Lord will bring,
For love or loss or redemption or rain we sing,
I am Texas,

I have seen the fires burn the open plains,
And scattered dirt, like their ashes, over freshly dug graves,
And seen new growth take both their place,
I am Texas,

I have gone from clear skies to rain,
I have cried out, like rolling thunder, in pain,
I have struck out like lightning in blinding rage,
I am Texas,

But my love has bloomed like bluebonnets in the spring,
I have spoken as sweetly as the mockingbird sings,
My touch has been as soft as the whitest cotton you've seen,
I am Texas.

I could stand here and count the number of days I've wanted to die,
But what good would that do anybody?
No one here has felt anything less,
Than the deepest depths of pain the human spirit is capable of,
So instead of death,
Let me speak of love.

Not love for myself,
Or love others have had for me,
But a love of the moon and the stars and the sea,
The type of love oxygen makes to your body when you breathe,
And that breath keeps you living,
And I know there's pain in giving,
But the CO2 you let out when you breathe,
Is soaked up so sweetly by the plants and their leaves,
It loves them, the same way oxygen loves you and me,
And with this cycle of love, the world keeps spinning,
And with every breath, we keep living,
And though we take, we keep giving,
Because within you and me is the most basic kind of love,
The Love of Living.